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PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


'              BX  9869  .C4  A3  1874  v. 2     ^ 
Channing,  William  Ellery, 
1780-1842. 
Shelf.         Memoir  of  William  Ellery 
-—      Channing        _. 


MEMOIR 


WILLIAM   ELLERY   CHANNING 


VOLUME  II. 


-y 


"^-^^^ 


iT'^i:^  Cr_   ^r 


y 


M  E  MO  I  R 
WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING, 


EXTRACTS  FROM  HIS  CORRESPONDENCE 
AND   MANUSCRIPTS. 


IN    TH  R  K  E    VOLUMES. 

VOL.   II. 

TENTH    tt>ITIOK. 


B  OS  T  0  N : 
AMERICAN   UNITARIAN   ASSOCIATION. 

1874. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1848,  by 

William  Henrt  Channino, 

fai  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Atassachuaetta. 


CONTENTS 

OF 

VOLUME     SECOND. 


PART    SECOND. 

(continued.) 

CHAPTER  IV. 

SPIRITUAL   GROWTH. 
JET.   34-42.     1814-1822. 
Distaste  for  Controversy,  3.     Section  First,  Religion,  4.     Sec- 
tion  Second,   Human    Mature,   28.     Section    Third,   Christ  and 
Christianity,  49.    Section  Fourth,  Society,  63. 

CHAPTER  V. 

MIDDLE-AGE  MINISTRY. 
ffiT.  34-42.  1814-1822. 
*  Free  Inquiry,  84.  Relations  to  Opponents,  87.  Arianism,  92. 
German  Writers,  94.  Wordsworth,  95.  Fall  of  Bonaparte,  98. 
War  with  England,  102.  Peace  Movements,  109.  The  Seminole 
W.ir,  116.  Privateering,  117.  Capital  Punishment,  119.  Missions, 
120.  Bible  Society,  121.  Theological  School,  125.  Harvard  Uni- 
versity,  129.  Benevolence,  137.  Vestry,  139.  Growing  Reputation, 
145.  Private  Papers,  146.  Invitation  to  Ntew  York,  166.  Family 
Relations,  168.  Death  of  his  Brother,  169.  Death  of  his  Sister,  174. 
His  Marriage,  177.     Children,  182.     Baptism,  187.     Illness,  189. 

CHAPTER    VI. 

EUROPEAN    JOURNEY. 
«t.  42-43.     1822-1823. 
Journey  in   New   Hampshire   and   Vermont,  193.     Parting  Word«, 


CONTENTS. 


201.  Ocean,  202.  Tlie  hakes,  208.  Wordsworth,  216.  Coleridge, 
218.  Switzerland,  220.  Views  of  Society,  222.  Education  of  his 
Children,  229.     Death  of  his  youngest  Son,  2'63.     Return,  240. 


PARTTHIRD. 

CHAPTER  I. 

THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

Devotedness  to  liis  Duties,  245.  Views  of  the  Ministry,  252.  The- 
ological Students,  230.  Dr.  Channing  as  a  Preacher,  285.  Debility, 
294.  Settlement  of  a  Colleague,  297.  Relations  to  Federal  Street 
Society,  302.  Views  of  Pastoral  Duties,  317.  His  Function,  322. 
Dr.  Channing  as  an  Author,  323.  His  Literary  Character,  335.  Mis- 
cellanies, 3;J8.     Literary  Correspondence,  343. 

CHAPTER  II. 

RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

Plan  of  a  Work  on  Man,  354.  His  Position  of  Thought,  357.  Self- 
/eliance,  3G4.  Longing  for  Light,  372.  "  I  am  little  of  a  Unitarian,' 
381.  Principles  of  Moral,  Religious,  and  Political  Science,  403.  Cor 
rcspondcncc  on  Religion  and  Philosophy,  408. 


MEMOIR. 


PART     SECOND. 


(continued.'^ 


VOL.    II. 


MEMOIR. 
PART     SECOND. 

(continued.) 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SPIRITUAL    GEOWTH. 
4:t.  34-42.    1814-1822. 

Controversy  was  utterly  uncongenial  to  Mr.  Chan- 
ning  ;  his  temper,  tastes,  desires,  habits,  all  conspired 
to  make  it  repugnant.  He  was  discriminating  in  pro- 
cesses of  thought,  instinctively  repelled  dogmas,  how- 
ever time-hallowed,  which  were  abhorrent  to  the  dictates 
of  his  moral  nature,  made  nice  distinctions  between 
opinions  resulting  from  accidental  influences  and  truths 
addressed  to  the  reason  of  man  universally  in  the  creeds 
transmitted  by  tradition,  and  was  earnestly  watching  for 
a  brighter  spiritual  day  to  dawn  ;  but,  while  thus  im- 
pelled to  join  the  ranks  of  the  progress-party,  and  fitted 
by  eloquence  to  be  a  leader  there,  he  yet  appreciated 
so  justly  what  was  good  in  the  tendencies  of  established 
bodies  of  believers,  and  so  cordially  sympathized  with 
the  character  displayed  by  Christians  of  every  denomi- 
nation, that  he  felt  he  was  doing  violence  to  his  heart 


4  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

by  withdrawing  from  their  communion.  Above  all,  he 
was  so  conscious  of  the  darkness,  ignorance,  sophistry, 
overspreading  the  tlieological  world,  and  so  fervently 
longing  for  some  full  vision  of  Divine  Wisdom,  that  a 
position  of  sectarian  dogmatism  seemed  to  him  as  absurd 
as  it  was  presumptuous.  He  was  chiefly  desirous  to 
forget  the  things  behind  and  to  press  on.  It  would  be 
treating  him  with  great  injustice,  then,  not  to  present 
some  more  positive  traces  of  his  spiritual  growth  during 
these  years  of  painful  dissension.  How  very  small  a 
space  controversy  occupied  in  his  mind  is  proved  by 
the  fact,  that,  among  his  unpublished  sermons  and  manu- 
scripts of  that  period,  there  does  not  remain  a  single 
controversial  paper.  He  was  seeking  to  reverence  and 
love  God,  to  respect  and  sympathize  with  man,  to  form 
himself  and  his  fellows  anew  in  Christ's  image,  to  mould 
society  upon  the  pattern  of  Divine  justice.  This  will 
appear  in  the  following  extracts. 

SECTION    FIRST. 
RELIGION. 

Oct.  1814.  Divine  goodness  and  justice  one.  "  I 
would  have  you  penetrated  with  the  conviction  that  God  is 
most  just ;  but  I  would  have  you  hold  this  truth  in  consis- 
tency with  that  most  interesting  of  all  truths,  that  God  de- 
lights to  do  good,  and  that  all  his  operations  arc  directed  by 
benevolence.  Benevolence  and  justice  are  harmonious  attri- 
butes of  God,  to  which  all  others  may  be  reduced  ;  and  the 
true  idea  of  justice  is,  that  it  is  u  branch  or  mode  of  exercise 
of  benevolence. 

"  This  thought  is  so  important,  especially  as  giving  us 
the  clearest  view  of  the  justice  of  God,  that  I  shall  proceed 
to  offer  a  few  remarks  in  illustration  of  it.  There  is  reason 
to  fear  that  this  attribute  has  not  always  been  placed  in  its 


DlVIiNE    JUSTICE.  O 

true  light.  Some  persons,  misled  by  confining  their  atten- 
tion to  a  {'c\v  passages  of  Scripture,  have  represented  justice 
as  a  distinct  perfection  from  goodness,  and  as  sometimes 
clasliing  with  it,  and  opposing  the  wishes  of  Divijijs  benevo- 
lence. Such  sentiments  are  dishonorable  to  God,  and  inju- 
rious to  true  piety,  by  stripping  his  character  of  its  chief 
excellence,  the  infinity  of  goodness.  Such  representations 
of  justice  have  induced  some  to  regard  it  as  an  attribute  to 
be  dreaded  rather  than  to  be  esteemed  and  loved  ;  and 
many  have  wished  to  exclude  it  from  their  conception  of 
God.  But  an  attention  to  the  general  scope  of  Scripture 
will  correct  the  error,  and  teach  us  that  God's  justice  coin- 
cides with  goodness,  and  is  even  a  branch  of  it,  and  that 
it  is  therefore  to  be  regarded  with  affectionate  rever- 
ence  

"  Divine  justice  is,  m  fact,  an  exercise  of  enlarged  be- 
nevolence, enjoining  and  enforcing  by  rewards  and  punish- 
ments those  dispositions  and  actions  on  which  the  peace, 
order,  improvement,  and  felicity  of  rational  beings  depend. 
I  repeat  it,  the  principle  of  justice  is  lenevolence.  It  is 
God's  goodness  which  inclines  and  impels  him  to  maintain 
a  moral  government,  or  to  treat  beings  according  to  their 
characters ;  for  nothing  has  so  much  influence  as  character 
on  the  happiness  or  misery  of  his  universe.  The  more 
benevolence  a  being  possesses,  the  more  he  will  honor,  re- 
ward, and  encourage  that  spirit  of  universal  love  which  is 
the  very  soul  of  happiness,  and  the  more  he  will  discounte- 
nance that  selfish  and  ungrateful  spirit  which  disorders,  and 
darkens,  and  desolates  creation. 

"  God's  justice,  then,  is  a  wise  benevolence,  employing 
rewards  and  punishments  to  exalt  intelligent  creatures  to 
the  most  perfect  and  happy  character,  to  a  participation  of 
that  love  or  moral  goodness  which  forms  his  own  felicity." 

1816.  Sensibility  to  sin.     "  'I  will  arise  and  go  to  my 
1  * 


6  SPIRITUAL   GROWTH. 

father,  and  will  say  unto  him,  Father,  I  have  sinned  against 
heaven  and  before  thee,  and  am  no  more  worthy  to  be 
called  thy  son.'  There  is  no  man,  who  knows  himself,  who 
will  not  admit  that  the  language  of  this  text  is  an  acknowl- 
edgment which  should  often  proceed  from  his  own  lips. 
All,  indeed,  have  not  committed  the  same  sins.  The  stain 
of  guilt  is  not  equally  broad  and  deep  on  every  conscience. 
Some,  through  the  good  providence  of  God,  and  the  influ- 
ences of  a  wise  and  pious  education,  have  escaped  the  gross 
vices  into  which  the  prodigal  son  was  precipitated,  and 
some  from  their  earliest  years  have  been  swayed  by  the 
principles  of  piety.  But  none  have  advanced^in  the  path 
of  duty  with  a  step  which  has  never  faltered.  -  No  man  has 
been  always  true  to  God,  and  to  the  dictates  of  his  own 
mind.  All  have  sinned.  All  have  cause  for  humble  ac- 
knowledgment, and  the  sense  of  unworthiness  before  God 
should  form  a  part  of  every  man's  habitual  tone  of  feeling,  i 

"  I  am  aware  that  this  duty  of  preserving  a  sensibility  to 
our  sins  has  often  been  overstated,  or  enjoined  in  language 
too  unqualified  or  unguarded.  Men  have  sometimes  been 
addressed  as  if  they  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  remember  and 
lament  their  sins,  as  if  they  could  not  speak  of  themselves 
in  language  too  full  of  abasement,  and  as  if  there  were  a 
virtue  in  doubting  their  capacity  for  good,  and  denying 
whatever  improvements  they  may  have  made  in  holiness. 

"  Do  not  imagine  for  a  moment  that  Christianity  en- 
courages an  unnatural,  morbid,  extravagant  mode  of  thought. 
It  calls  you  to  other  duties  and  services  besides  the  recol- 
lection of  your  sins ;  and  it  teaches  you,  even  when  en- 
gaged in  these  recollections,  still  to  be  just  to  yourselves,  to 
think  soberly  or  judiciously,  to  charge  on  yourselves  no 
imaginary  or  exaggerated  guilt,  and  to  be  sensible  of  virtues, 
if  you  really  possess  them,  as  truly  as  of  defects  and  trans- 
gressions. True  humility  has  its  foundation  in  a  correct 
estimate  of  our  characters.     It  is  the  virtue  of  an  enlight- 


REPENTANCE.  7 

ened  understanding.  It  is  to  be  formed,  not  by  fixing  our 
thoughts  exclusively  on  the  worst  parts  of  our  conduct,  and 
ascribing  the  guilt  of  these  to  our  whole  lives,  but  by  ob- 
serving our  whole  lives  impartially,  surveying  tbe  good  and 
the  evil  in  our  temper  and  general  deportment,  and  in  this 
way  learning  to  what  degree  we  are  influenced  by  the  va- 
rious dispositions  and  principles  which  enter  into  our  char- 
acter. Such  discriminating  attention  to  ourselves  will  make 
the  best  of  us  humble ;  but  a  humility  thus  formed  will  be 
very  difTerent  from  that  vague  feeling  which  some  persons 
cherish,  that  they  have  contracted  enormous  guilt.  We 
shall  thus  learn  to  know  what  are  the  particular  defects  and 
sins  which  we  ought  to  confess,  what  proportion  they  bear 
to  our  whole  character,  and  what  methods  may  be  most 
successfully  applied  for  their  correction." 

1820.  Repentance.  "We  repent  then,  and  then  only, 
•when,  seeing  a  propensity  to  be  evil,  we  resist  it  as  such, 
and  bring  it  into  subjection  to  the  principle  of  duty.  Re- 
pentance is  a  revolution  of  mind  which  we  resolve  upon,  in 
which  we  are  voluntarily  active,  and  which  is  established 
by  our  perseverance.  The  command  to  repent  is  founded 
on  the  fact,  that  God  has  given  us  a  power  over  our  own 
minds ;  and  until  this  power  is  exerted,  until  a  change  is 
produced  by  our  own  deliberate  efforts,  we  are  not  penitent. 

"  When  I  speak  of  power  over  our  own  minds,  I  do  not 
mean  that  a  man  can  by  a  single  act  of  his  will,  by  the 
effort  of  a  moment,  change  his  character,  efface  the  impres- 
sion of  years,  calm  the  violence  of  long-indulged  anger, 
cleanse  imagination  from  impurities  on  which  it  has  long  sur- 
feited, or  raise  to  God  a  mind  which  has  grown  to  the  earth. 
These  miracles  are  not  suddenly  wrought  in  the  mind,  any 
more  than  is  the  full-grown  and  fruitful  tree  made  to  spring 
in  an  instant  from  the  seed.  The  work  of  undoing  evil 
habits,  of  retracing  wrong  steps,  of  subduing  passions  which 


8  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

in  our  folly  we  have  allowed  to  become  our  masters,  is 
gradual  and  slow.  But  still,  a  man  who  acknowledges  the 
importance  of  such  a  change,  who  feels  his  responsibility, 
and  who  expects  to  reap  as  he  shall  sow,  has  power  given 
him  to  accomplish  it,  —  power  to  gain  daily  victories  over 
himself, —  power  to  fly  from  situations  which  tempt  him 
too  strongly  and  surely  from  his  duty,  —  power  to  reflect  on 
those  great  truths  respecting  God  and  his  mercy  to  the  peni- 
tent, and  his  inflexible  purpose  of  punishing  persevering 
guilt,  which  weaken  vice  and  build  up  holy  resolutions,  — 
power  to  avail  himself  of  virtuous  companions,  pious  exam- 
ples, and  the  counsel  of  good  men,  —  power  to  examine 
himself,  and  learn  his  particular  danger,  —  and,  above  all, 
power  to  pray  to  God,  the  original  of  all  strength,  success, 
and  purity.  We  are  endowed  with  these  powers,  which,  if 
exerted,  will  certainly  make  us  better,  will  change  the  frame 
of  our  minds,  and  effect  an  amendment  which,  though  it 
may  not  be  perceptible  from  day  to  day,  becomes  very  ob- 
vious when  we  compare  distant  periods  of  our  lives.  It  i? 
by  the  use  of  these  powers  that  all  true  repentance  is  ac- 
complished. Some,  indeed,  tell  us  that  repentance  is  a 
work  done  immediately  for  us  by  God,  that  we  are  trans- 
formed, regenerated,  renewed  by  a  sudden  and  resistless 
agency  of  the  Divine  Spirit.  But  why,  then,  are  we  called 
to  repent  and  renew  ourselves  ?  Why  is  penitence  assigned 
as  a  duty,  and  the  neglect  of  it  punished  as  a  crime  ?  True, 
it  is  God  who  gives  repentance.  All  good  comes  from 
him,  whether  spiritual  or  natural ;  but  it  comes  through  the 
powers  which  he  bestows,  and  through  his  blessing  on  the 
faithful  use  of  them.  The  character  is  never  changed  in  a 
moment,  or  without  our  own  activity. 

"Repentance,  we  have  said,  is  a  change  of  mind  effected 
by  our  own  exertions.  Another  characteristic  of  repentance 
is,  that  it  is  a  universal  change,  a  turning  from  sin,  at  lecisl 
as   far  as  the  will  is  concerned.     Repentance   is  a  strong 


REPENTANCE.  9 

purpose  to  remove  every  thing  evil  from  our  character.  I 
excepts  no  form,  mode,  degree,  of  evil.  It  makes  no  com- 
promise with  sin,  but  wages  against  it  an  unsparing  and  ex- 
terminating war.  I  do  not  repent,  if  to  bribe  .conscience  I 
sacrifice  one  evil  desire  or  pleasure  whilst  others  are  toler- 
ated, if  I  hope  to  atone  by  earnestness  in  some  duties  for 
negligence  in  others,  if  particular  virtues  are  used  to  weigh 
down  particular  sins,  and  a  general  correctness  is  made  a 
substitute  for  efforts  to  improve.  To  repent  is  not  to  do 
wrong  with  moderation  and  under  certain  restrictions.  It 
does  not  mean  that  we  allow  ourselves  to  wander  only  a 
certain  distance  from  our  duty.  To  repent  is  to  try  to  per- 
form our  whole  duty,  to  mark  every  known  departure  from 
it,  and  to  aim  at  universal  rectitude  of  heart  and  life.  Re- 
pentance is  not,  indeed,  one  with  full  perfection.  It  is  a 
state  consistent  with  many  failures  and  sins.  But  it  is  per- 
fect in  its  seed  and  root,  perfect  in  its  aim  and  aspiration, 
perfect  in  purpose  and  prospect.  God  accepts  it  because  it 
is  a  pledge  of  spotless  purity,  and  an  advancing  step  to- 
wards it 

"  Some,  when  they  speak  of  repentance,  mean  little  more 
than  that  they  have  grieved  for  transgression.  Now  sorrow 
is,  I  admit,  an  entrance-way  to  repentance,  a  preparation 
for  it,  a  means  of  it ;  but  it  is  not  the  grace  itself.  The  truth 
is,  we  must  toil  and  struggle,  as  well  as  lament ;  and  grief 
does  no  good  any  farther  than  it  leads  to  a  habit  of  watch- 
fulness, and  of  opposition  to  the  first  motion  of  guilty  desire. 
The  common  sorrow  of  men  over  their  consciousness  of 
misconduct  is  no  great  virtue.  To  mourn  for  a  past  sin  is 
neither  a  rare  nor  a  high  attainment.  The  difiiculty  is,  to 
hate  the  sin  before  it  is  committed,  to  look  upon  it  in  the 
moment  of  strong  temptation  as  we  shall  do  when  it  is  per- 
formed, to  resolve  against  it  when  it  is  yet  in  our  power  to 
withhold  our  act,  and  not  when  it  is  completed  and  irrev- 
ocable." 


10  SPIKITUAL    GROWTH. 

1815.  Spiritual  influences.  "  There  is  another  class 
of  Christians,  who,  whilst  they  believe  that  God  constantly 
operates  on  the  human  mind,  and  that  without  his  operation 
no  fruits  of  goodness  are  produced,  yet  believe  thai  the 
mode  of  his  influence  is  essentially  diflerent  from  that  pre- 
sented in  the  view  just  given.  They  believe  that  Divine 
influence  is  not  sudden  and  irresistible,  but  suited  to  the 
nature  of  man  as  a  free  and  accountable  being ;  that  it  is 
habitual,  gentle,  persuasive,  offering  truth  to  the  mind  and 
motives  to  the  will,  but  leaving  the  individual  at  liberty  to 
comply  with  or  reject  it.  They  conceive  that  compulsion 
or  irresistible  power  would  entirely  destroy  the  virtue  of 
human  actions,  would  reduce  man  to  a  machine,  and  would 
thus  entirely  defeat  God's  end,  which  is  to  render  us  objects 
of  approbation  and  reward.  They  conceive  that  our  whole 
goodness  is  to  be  ascribed  to  God  as  its  author,  because  he 
gives  us  all  our  powers,  our  understanding,  our  consciences, 
our  knowledge  of  duty,  our  capacity  of  improvement,  be- 
cause he  furnishes  in  •  his  gospel  the  most  powerful  mo- 
tives to  obedience,  and  because,  by  the  silent  influences  of 
his  providence  and  spirit  on  the  heart,  he  suggests  good 
thoughts,  awakens  desires  of  holiness,  and  furnishes  all  the 
strength  which  we  need  to  resist  temptation.  But  they 
believe  that  God's  agency  stops  here,  that  he  does  not  in 
any  manner  compel  men  to  follow  the  light  and  the  mo- 
tives which  he  presents,  —  does  not  force  them  to  use  the 
strength  which  he  bestows.  It  depends  on  themselves 
whether  they  concur  with  or  resist  his  grace,  whether  they 
use  well  or  neglect  the  powers  which  he  gives,  whether 
ihey  will  serve  God  or  disobey  him." 

1817.  Walking  with  God.  "  It  is  the  earnest  desire 
of  the  pious  man,  whose  heart  has  been  touched  by  God'.^ 
good  spirit,  to  feel  what  he  believes,  that  God  is  with  him  ; 
and  his  attention  is  often  withdrawn  from  all  finite  things, 


THE    DIGNITY    OF    PIET?.  il 

that  he  may  bring  home  this  thought  with  power  co  his 
heart. 

"  The  quickness  of  perception,  the  sensibility,  to  which 
the  mind,  by  use  and  time,  may  attain  on  these  subjects,  is 
not  easily  believed  by  those  who  have  made  no  progress  in 
religion.  The  pious  man,  whose  mind  is  exercised  on  God, 
comes  to  see  him  in  a  peculiar  manner.  He  has  a  con- 
sciousness of  his  presence  which  he  cannot  easily  describe 
or  communicate  to  one  who  has  lived  wholly  in  the  world. 
In  scenes  which  to  others  are  blank  and  desolate,  he  feels 
that  he  is  not  alone ;  and  in  society  where  others  see  only 
their  fellow-beings,  a  higher  presence  is  revered  and  per- 
ceived. Even  when  thinking  of  outward  things,  there  is, 
if  I  may  so  speak,  in  the  breast  of  a  devout  man,  a  latent 
sense  of  God ;  just  as,  when  we  are  near  or  in  sight  of  an 
individual  whom  we  respect,  there  is  a  consciousness  of 
him,  and  a  reference  to  him,  even  though  we  are  conversing 
freely  with  other  beings. 

"  The  pious  man  finds  in  the  whole  of  life,  in  its  suc- 
cesses or  reverses,  in  the  kindness  of  friends  or  the  calum- 
nies of  foes,  in  the  difficulties  and  trials  of  his  state,  calls 
and  motives  to  this  seci'et  converse  with  God,  and  life 
becomes  more  and  more  interesting  in  proportion  as  it 
strengthens  this  sacred  intimacy.  Often,  when  to  those 
around  he  seems  to  be  living  among  things  seen,  and  en- 
gaged by  human  agencies,  he  is  holding  a  high  and  pure 
intercoui-se  with  the  Father  of  his  spirit.  And  this  piety 
brings  its  reward  in  the  serenity  and  refinement  which  it 
imparts  to  the  whole  spirit  of  him  who  thus  walks  with 
God." 

1813.  The  dignity  of  piety.  "  What  is  there  which 
gives  such  dignity  to  our  nature  as  the  capacity  of  knowing 
and  of  loving  the  best  of  beings  ?  It  is  chiefly  this  capacity 
of  religion  that  lifts  us  above  brutes,  that  allies  us  to  su- 


12  SriKITUAL    GROWTH. 

perloi  orders  of  beings.  You  must  at  once  acknowledge 
that  tlie  mind  is  ennobled  just  in  proportion  to  the  grandeur 
and  sublimity  of  the  objects  on  which  it  is  employed. 
Think,  then,  of  the  elevation  of  that  mind  which  habitually 
directs  itself  to  God,  of  that  heart  in  which  this  infinitely 
great  and  good  being  is  enthroned.  We  ought  to  consider 
piety  as  the  highest,  most  generous,  and  dignified  attain- 
ment which  is  placed  within  our  reach,  —  in  fact,  as  the 
noblest  characteristic  which  an  intelligent  creature  can  ex- 
hibit. 

"  It  is  melancholy,  that  piety  should  not  be  associated 
in  every  mind  with  the  idea  of  dignity  and  honor.  But,  un- 
happily, religion  has  been  so  often  worn  as  a  mask  by  the 
unprincipled,  it  has  so  often  been  accompanied  by  mum- 
mery and  superstition,  that  some  have  associated  with  its 
venerable  name  feelings  of  contempt  and  degradation. 
They  think  that  to  be  devout  is  to  be  weak.  Of  all  delu- 
sions there  is  none  greater  than  this. 

"  We  should  feel  that  piety  is  the  veiy  spirit  of  heaven, 
the  very  life  of  angels,  a  pure  celestial  flame,  ever  tending 
to  that  world  from  which  it  descended,  and  aspiring  towards 
Him  by  whom  it  is  enkindled.  We  should  feel  that  piety 
partakes  the  glory  of  God,  who  is  its  object,  and  assimilates 
us  to  him  ;  that  it  gives  warmth  to  benevolence,  strength  to 
fortitude,  firmness  to  integrity,  and  calmness  and  peace  to 
afllicted  virtue.  These  are  the  venerable  and  attractive 
attributes  in  which  piety  should  be  arrayed." 

1816.  Resemblance  to  God.  "  There  is  something  most 
alTccting  in  the  thought  of  resembling  God.  It  is  a  reflec- 
tion which  ought  to  fill  and  almost  overwhelm  our  minds, 
that  we  have  a  nature  capable  of  bearing  the  image  of 
God's  perfections.  This  single  view  of  our  nature  throws 
round  it  a  lustre  infinitely  surpassing  all  the  honors  of  the 
world  ;    and  this  thought  of  resembling  God  is  not  a  pre- 


PIETY   AND   GOODNESS.  13 

sumptuous  one.  The  purity,  the  virtue,  to  which  we  are 
called  in  the  gospel,  and  which  men  have  in  a  measure  at- 
tained, is  the  same  in  nature  with  that  which  constitutes  the 
glory  of  God.  In  particular,  that  disinterested  Ijjuve,  that  dif- 
fusive benevolence,  to  which  Jesus  Christ  so  emphatically 
calls  us,  forms  the  highest  glory  of  the  Divine  character. 
The  language  of  John  on  this  subject  is  remarkable.  "  God 
is  love,  and  he  that  dwells  in  love  dwells  in  God."  Aston- 
ishing thought !  By  Christian  goodness  we  are  made  par- 
lakers  of  God's  nature,  we  shine  with  a  ray  of  his  light,  wc> 
share  his  highest  perfection,  we  become  temples  of  the 
Divinity,  God  dwells  in  us.  This  grand  reality  is  too  faintly 
felt  by  us.  We  do  not  with  sufficient  force  conceive  the 
intimate  relation  which  we  may  sustain  to  God.  We  do 
not  heartily  believe  that  Christian  virtue  constitutes  us  his 
children,  by  making  us  like  him.  We  do  not  bring  it  home 
to  ourselves,  that  in  sinning  we  are  extinguishing  a  ray  of 
Divinity  within  our  souls,  and  that  by  every  step  in  moral 
progress  we  are  ascending  towards  God,  the  Original  and 
End  of  all  excellence  and  felicity." 

1818.  True  piety  one  with  active  goodness.  "  Re- 
ligion is  a  high  degree  of  delight  in  all  the  perfections  of 
God,  —  in  his  wisdom,  his  rectitude,  his  benevolence  ;  and 
what  is  the  most  acceptable  expression  of  this  veneration  ? 
Is  it  enough  to  admire  and  praise  ?  Do  we  not  most  effi- 
ciently manifest  our  esteem  by  seeking  to  become  what  we 
praise,  by  transcribing  into  our  lives  the  perfections  of  God, 
by  copying  his  wisdom  in  the  judicious  pursuit  of  good  ends, 
his  justice  in  the  discharge  of  all  our  obligations,  and  his 
benevolence  in  the  diffijsion  of  all  possible  happiness  around 
us  ?  Then  is  our  love  of  God  the  most  exalted,  when  in  our 
several  spheres  we  aim  to  be  like  him,  to  reflect  his  glory, 
to  act  for  the  great  end  for  which  he  is  ever  active,  the  im- 
provement and  happiness  of  every  being  within  our  influ- 
ence. 

VOL.   II.  2 


14  SPIRITUAL    GROV.TH. 

"  I  wish  you  to  feel  that  religion,  love  to  God,  is  in  no 
way  at  war  with  our  relations  and  present  state.  It  does 
not  take  us  out  of  the  world.  It  is  not  inconsistent  with  any 
of  the  useful  pursuits  of  life,  but  unites  them  with  itself,  and 
makes  them  oblations  to  God.  He  who  feels  the  true  in- 
flueoce  of  religion  does  not  relinquish  his  labor.  On  the 
contrary,  he  becomes  more  industrious,  labors  with  more 
cheerfulness,  is  more  contented  with  his  lot,  however  diffi- 
cult. Religion  furnishes  motives  which  give  to  existence  a 
dignity  and  animation  such  as  he  was  unconscious  of  before. 
Neither  does  he  forsake  society.  On  the  contrary,  his  social 
chamcter  is  improved.  Taught  by  God''s  goodness,  he  looks 
round  on  his  fellow-beings  with  new  tenderness.  A  more 
benignant  smile  lights  up  his  countenance  at  sight  of  human 
virtue  and  happiness,  a  more  frequent  pain  is  felt  at  sight  of 
human  guilt  and  misery.  He  is  more  conscientious,  more  just 
in  his  transactions,  more  faithful  in  all  his  relations,  milder 
in  his  temper,  and  more  active  in  his  charity.  Neither  does 
he  give  up  all  his  enjoyments.  His  religion  cuts  off  no  inno- 
cent and  healthy  stream  of  pleasure.  It  heightens  pleasure, 
by  making  it  more  rational,  more  pui*e,  more  equable,  more 
consistent  with  all  the  duties  of  life.  This,  my  friends,  is  the 
nature  and  influence  of  true  religion. 

"  In  one  word,  religion  is  designed  to  refine  and  improve 
our  whole  nature,  to  make  us  better  in  cveiy  condition,  to 
awaken  all  our  faculties,  to  render  us  active,  intelligent,  gen- 
erous, pure,  temperate,  meek,  contented,  and  serene.  And 
it  is  genuine  just  so  far,  and  no  farther,  as  these  effects  are 
produced.  This  influence  of  religion  over  the  whole  life  is 
thj  proper  standard  by  which  it  should  be  measured." 

1819.  Piety  and  Morality.  "  What  is  it  in  God  which 
calls  forth  our  veneration,  gratitude,  love,  filial  attachment  ^ 
What  attribute  gives  him  a  claim  to  these  sentiments  >  On 
this  point  there  is  little  difierence  of  opinion.     All  Christians 


PIETY   AND    MORALITY.  15 

will  tell  you  that  God  is  chiefly  to  be  loved  and  revered 
because  he  is  good  or  benevolent,  and  because  he  is  right- 
eous or  just,  —  because  he  desires  at  once  the  happiness  and 
the  excellence  of  his  creatures,  —  because  he  rejoices  to  send 
benefits  on  all  who  are  fitted  to  receive  them,  -^because  he 
enjoins  and  rewards  virtue,  and  abhors  and  punishes  impeni- 
tent guilt.  Benevolence  and  righteousness,  then,  are  tlie  at- 
tributes on  which  Piety  chiefly  rests  as  its  object,  and  by 
communion  with  which  it  acts  and  grows. 

"  But  consider  a  moment  what  benevolence  and  righteous- 
ness are.  Are  they  not  the  veiy  qualities  which  we  mean 
by  Morality  1  What  is  morality  but  tlie  exercise  of  a 
benevolent  and  just  temper  towards  all  beings  within  our 
knowledge  and  influence  ?  If  so,  what  is  God's  character, 
the  character  which  we  are  to  love,  but  Perfect  Morality  ?  — 
what  but  the  veiy  dispositions,  in  their  fulness,  which  con- 
science enjoins  upon  every  man,  and  which  form  what  we 
call  rectitude  ?  To  love  God,  then,  is  to  love  morality  in  its 
most  perfect  form ;  and  thus  we  see  how  religion  and  morals 
pass  into  each  other  and  become  one. 

"  This  idea  seems  to  me  too  important  to  be  passed  over 
lightly.  Men  have  always  sunk  a  great  gulf  between  piety 
and  morality,  religion  and  rectitude ,  devoutness  and  virtue. 
To  love  God  has  been  thought  something  quite  distinct  from 
loving  our  neighbour,  loving  our  duty,  loving  right  and 
worthy  actions.  But  they  are  not  to  be  divided.  _To  love 
God  is  the  same  thing  as  to  love  rectitude,  for  God  is  recti- 
tude ;  this  is  the  central  principle  of  his  character.  His 
character  is  the  perfection  of  morality,  and  the  love  of 
him  is  the  love  of  morality.  The  love  of  God  is  but 
another  name  for  the  love  of  essential  benevolence  and 
justice;  —  it  is  a  sincere  and  obedient  delight  in  a  Divine 
governmei.t,  by  which  these  virtues  arc  manifested,  enforced, 
spread  abroad,  and  renewed  most  gloriously.  So  inseparable 
are  religion  and  moralitv.     If  we  could  conceive  of  God  as 


16  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

wanting  the  qualities  and  attributes  which  in  men  we  call 
moral  virtues,  we  should  thereby  tear  up  and  destroy  the 
vital  germ  of  piety.  Nothing  would  remain  for  our  love, 
veneration,  and  filial  attachment  to  cling  to  in  God.  He 
would  have  no  claim  on  us.  It  is  because  he  is  The  Good, 
because  he  is  a  moral  being,  and  because  in  loving  him  we 
love  Perfect  Morality,  that  we  are  bound  to  love  him  with 
all  the  heart,  soul,  and  strength. 

'•'  A.ccording  to  these  views,  the  genuineness  and  strength 
of  our  religion  appear  altogether  in  our  love  of  righteousness 
and  goodness,  and  in  our  endeavour  to  approach  God  in 
these  moral  perfections.  I  know  religion  is  generally  rep- 
resented as  something  different  from  this.  The  labor  of 
men  has  always  been  to  divorce  piety  from  virtue,  —  to 
substitute  adulation  for  moral  obedience,  acts  of  homage  to 
God  for  equity  and  benevolence  to  men.  Heathenism  was 
little  more  than  an  attempt  to  conciliate  the  Divine  favor  by 
outward  rites,  to  please  God  by  other  means  than  a  pure 
and  good  life.  We  cannot  wonder  that  men  fly  to  these 
i'alse  modes  of  religion,  for  the  obligations  they  impose  are 
ligiit  and  easy,  when  compared  with  those  of  rectitude. 
It  is  vastly  easier  to  (latter  the  Supreme  Being  than  to  sub- 
due ourselves.  Nothing  is  so  hard  as  to  root  out  bad  pas- 
sions, to  be  u[)right,  at  whatever  cost,  and  to  be  benevolent 
and  charitable  under  all  provocations  and  difficulties.  To 
seek  a  resemblance  of  God's  moral  purity  is  unspeakably 
more  toilsome  than  to  praise  him  with  transport 

"  The  happiest  influence  of  religion  appears,  not  in  giving  us 
o-casional  joys  and  raptures,  but  in  communicating  delicacy 
od  power  to  our  sense  of  duty,  in  strengthening  conscience 
lo  resist  all  created  things  when  they  oppose  its  convictions, 
in  exalting  our  ordinary  life,  in  making  our  control  of  the 
passions  complete,  our  charity  superior  to  all  sacrifice  and 
suffering,  and  our  uprightness  immovable  as  the  throne  of 
God.     The  happiest   influence   of  religion   appears,  not  in 


HAl'PINESS    OF    RELIGION.  17 

raising  us  to  something  higher  than  morality,  for  that  would 
be  to  raise  us  above  God  himself,  but  in  giving  us  sublime 
ideas  of  morality,  a  pure  will  and  high  aim,  a  purpose  of 
excellence  such  as  never  could  exist  without  a  knowledge 
of  God's  character,  and  a  hope  of  his  aid  fri  imitating 
his  goodness.  Religion  makes  us  moral  by  renewing  our 
characters  and  lives  in  the  image  of  Divine  virtue.  It  forms 
us  to  a  I'ectitude,  and  benevolence,  and  purity  of  a  higher 
order  than  worldly  men  can  conceive.  In  this  its  glory  and 
strength  are  made  manifest.  Religion  is  the  perfection  of 
morality. 

1816.  The  happiness  of  a  religioits  life.  "The  hu- 
man heart  not  only  needs  objects  of  affection,  but  it  demands 
an  object  vast,  infinite  as  God,  completely  to  fill  and  to  satis- 
fy it.  The  soul  of  man,  though  often  debased  and  contracted, 
often  discovers  to  us  a  remarkable  property,  perhaps  the  most 
remarkable  in  its  constitution,  —  a  certain  insatiableness  of 
desire,  a  love  of  great  objects,  a  discontent  with  what  is  nar- 
row and  limited,  a  thirst  for  something  better  than  it  finds  on 
earth.  This  principle  has  sometimes  been  called  the  love 
of  the  infinite,  and  though  often  suppressed  by  want,  and 
oftener  by  vice,  it  is  ineradicable  in  human  nature,  and  shows 
to  VIS  that  the  human  mind  can  find  repose  only  in  the  In- 
finite Being.  God  is  the  only  fit  end  and  object  for  such  a 
being  as  man.  The  world  cannot  fill  his  mind.  You  see 
him  discontented,  restless,  even  amidst  its  fairest  prospects. 
A  secret  uneasiness  preys  on  him,  which  he  can  neither  ana- 
lyze nor  describe.  The  truth  is,  his  soul  whilst  confined  to 
the  world  has  not  yet  found  its  true  element.  He  has  de- 
sires and  affections  to  which  nothing  here  is  proportioned. 

"  Whilst  earthly  objects  are  exhausted  by  familiarity,  the 

thought   of  God  becomes   to   the    devout   man   continually 

brighter,  richer,  vaster,  derives  fresh  lustre  from  all  that  he 

observes  of  nature  and  providence,  and  attracts  to  itself  all 

2* 


18  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

he  glories  of  the  univei-se.  The  devout  man,  especially  in 
moments  of  strong  religious  sensibility,  feels  distinctly  that 
he  has  found  the  true  happiness  of  man.  He  has  found  a 
Being  for  his  veneration  and  love,  whose  character  is  inex- 
haustible, who,  after  ages  shall  have  passed,  will  still  be  un- 
comprehended  in  the  extent  of  his  perfections,  and  will  still 
communicate  to  the  pure  mind  stronger  proofs  of  his  excel- 
lence and  more  intimate  signs  of  his  approval." 

1816.  Heaven.  "Descriptions  of  this  nature  too  often 
convey  the  impression  that  heaven  is  a  state  of  rapturous 
ecstasy,  suspending  reason  and  the  calm  exercise  of  under- 
standing. It  is  indeed  true,  that  the  Scriptures  teach  us  tliat 
in  the  future  life  the  affections  will  be  powerfully  excited. 
New  sensibility  will  be  communicated  to  the  heart.  God  will 
be  loved  with  a  vastly  purer  and  intenser  love  than  is  known 
on  earth.  But  still,  the  understanding  will  not  be  sacrificed 
to  the  feelings.  Devotion  will  be  calm,  deliberate,  reasona- 
ble. It  will  be  the  fruit  of  extended  knowledge.  All  the 
faculties  of  the  understandins  will  be  exerted  and  invisorat- 
ed,  as  well  as  the  affections  ;  and  the  happiness  of  heaven 
will  possess  that  serene  and  reflecting  character  which  it  is 
becoming  and  honorable  for  rational  beings  to  enjoy. 

"  Another  representation  of  heaven  which  seems  to  me  un- 
favorable to  a  strong  impression  of  its  happiness  is  this ;  — 
heaven  is  often  described  as  a  place  where  eternity  will  be 
spent  in  immediate  acts  of  Divine  worship.  This  error  arises 
from  a  too  literal  and  narrow  interpretation  of  passages  in 
Scripture.  Their  true  meaning  is,  that  at  all  times,  and  in  all 
places,  spirits  in  heaven  will  possess  that  sensibility  to  God 
wiiich  pla?f?s  of  worship  are  particularly  designed  to  promote. 
Whatever  region  of  this  vast  univei-se  they  may  visit,  they 
will  regard  it  as  God's  empire,  God's  temple  ;  his  presence 
will  be  felt,  his  perfections  be  traced  and  adored,  his  will 
be  cheerfully  obeyed.     This  spirit  of  devotion,  which  we 


ERRONEOUS  VIKWS  OF  HEAVEN.  19 

ought  to  cherish  on  earth,  will,  indeed,  be  the  habit  of  heaven ; 
but  its  exercise  will  be  consistent  with  the  greatest  variety  of 
scenes  and  employments,  and  very  unlike  that  wearisome 
monotony  of  an  endless  round  of  religious  s'crvices  which 
some  seem  to  anticipate. 

"  I  proceed  to  consider  another  view  of  heaven  which 
renders  it  uninteresting.  Heaven  is  sometimes  described  in 
a  manner  which  excludes  the  idea  of  improvement,  of  pro- 
gression. The  thought  of  a  stationary  existence,  of  remain- 
mg  the  same  through  eternity,  of  a  world  where  the  mind, 
as  it  looks  forward  to  endless  ages,  will  see  no  change,  no 
progressive  ascent  to  superior  virtue,  is  a  most  discouraging 
and  melancholy  one.  The  human  mind  seems  so  impatient 
of  limits,  it  so  delights  in  boundless  prospects,  that  we  can 
hardly  feel  as  if  it  would  be  happy,  even  in  heaven  itself, 
were  it  to  find  that  it  had  reached  its  goal ;  that  no  accessions 
were  to  be  made  to  *its  knowledge  and  goodness  ;  that  no 
nearer  approach  could  be  gained  to  God  and  superior  orders 
of  being ;  that  all  above  it  was  forbidden  ground,  an  inac- 
cessible felicity. 

"  Such  concej' Jons  of  heaven  are  altogether  inconsistent 
with  what  we  know  of  the  faculties  of  the  human  understand- 
ing, which  seem  capable  of  indefinite  progression,  and  with 
what  we  see  of  the  works  of  God,  which  teach  us  that  he 
delights  in  a  progressive  creation.  We  ought  rather  to  con- 
ceive of  heaven  as  a  state  which  will  offer  far  greater  means 
of  improvement  than  the  present,  which  will  open  new  fields 
for  thought,  new  worlds  for  research,  which  will  inspire  a 
more  intense  desire  of  moral  greatness,  and  give  continu- 
ally increasing  energy  and  splendor  to  all  the  virtues  which 

ennoble  our  nature 

"Another  error  in  the  description  of  heaven,  which  I 
think  renders  it  less  interesting,  is  that  the  thought  of  society 
is  thrown  too  much  out  of  sight.  Now  human  nature  is  es- 
sentially social.     It  wants  objects  of  affection,  companions 


20  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

to  wliom  it  may  communicate  its  thoughts  and  purposes,  and 
with  whom  it  may  act  and  enjoy.  Pleasure  is  tasteless  with- 
out friendly  participation,  and  eveiy  view  of  lieaven  exclud- 
ing this  is  unfavorable  to  an  impression  of  its  happiness. 
We  are  too  apt  to  think  of  heaven  as  a  solemn  place.  Tt 
ought  to  be  viewed  by  us  as  a  place  of  cheerful  society.  The 
countenances  of  its  inhabitants  should  seem  to  us  irradiated 
by  a  benign  smile  in  their  intercourse  with  one  another,  and 
their  piety,  though  reverential,  should  seem  to  us  a  filial  and 
happy  sentiment,  which  enters  into  the  conversation,  and 
which  they  delight  to  manifest  together. 

"  Another  view  of  heaven  which  seems  to  me  to  weaken 
its  interest  is  this;  —  its  inhabitants  are  often  described  as 
forming  a  world  by  themselves,  as  having  no  connection 
with  any  other  beings.  Heaven  seems  to  be  considered  as  a 
region  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  universe.  Now  an  im- 
proved and  benevolent  mind  can  hariy  escape  the  desire  of 
extending  its  acquaintance  with  this  boundless  universe  of 
which  it  forms  a  part,  and  heaven  would  seem  a  place  of 
confinement,  did  it  shut  up  its  inhabitants  for  ever  from  every 
other  region.  But  we  ought  not  to  conceive  thus  of  the 
future  state  of  good  men.  We  need  not  doubt  the  fact  that 
angels  whose  home  is  heaven  visit  our  earth  and  bear  a 
part  in  our  transactions ;  and  we  have  good  reason  to  be- 
lieve, that,  if  we  obtain  admission  into  heaven,  we  shall 
still  have  opportunity,  not  only  to  i-eturn  to  earth,  but  to 
view  the  ojieration  of  God  in  distant  spheres,  and  be  his 
ministers  in  other  worlds 

"  It  is  not  impossible,  that,  in  our  intercourse  with  other 
worlds,  we  shall  meet  with  beings  who  are  passing  through 
the  first  stage  of  discipline,  like  that  which  is  now  assigned  to 
ourselves,  —  beings  exposed  to  pain,  temptation,  and  sorrow, 
beings  wh.o  may  need  our  sympathy  and  aid,  and  to  wlu  m 
we  may  render  the  same  offices  which  wc  have  reason  to 
believe  angels  now  render  to  the  human  race.     It  seems  to 


ERRONEOUS    VIEWS    OF    HEAVEN.  21 

me  that  we  do  not  render  heaven  a  less  interesting  or  less 
happy  world,  when  we  suppose  that  its  inhabitants  retain 
the  tenderest  sensibility,  and  feel  for  the  sufferings  which 
may  be  endured  in  otlier  regions  of  the  creatioi^  There  is 
a  sympathy  which,  though  in  a  measure  painful,  gives  a 
peculiar  charm  to  existence,  and  which  a  good  man  would 
not  wish  to  resign ;  and  we  ought  not  to  believe  that  this  is 
excluded  from  heaven. 

"  Once  more,  the  descriptions  which  are  given  of  heaven 
are  often,  I  think,  rendered  less  interesting  than  they  should 
be,  by  false  ideas  which  are  entertained  about  the  perfection 
of  its  inhabitants.  It  seems  to  be  thought,  that,  because  good 
men  are  to  be  perfect  hereafter,  they  will  all  resemble  each 
other ;  and  hence  that  diversity  of  character,  of  taste,  and 
habits,  which  contributes  so  much  to  our  happiness,  is  made 
to  give  place  to  a  monotonous  and  unvaried  excellence.  But 
all  God's  v/orks  are  marked  by  variety,  and  to  this  they 
owe  much  of  their  interest  and  beauty. 

"  Will  all  this  variety  be  blotted  out  in  heaven  ?  No  one, 
who  reflects  that  this  life  is  a  preparatory  state,  can  doubt 
that  our  future  character  will  be  a  continuation  of  the  pres- 
ent,—  that,  if  we  enter  heaven,  we  shall  carry  with  us  essen- 
tially the  same  minds  which  we  possess  on  leaving  the  world, 
and  thus  all  the  peculiarities  of  earth  which  are  consistent 
with  goodness  will  be  transplanted  in  the  future  state.  The 
Scriptures  teach  us  that  it  will  be  part  of  the  happiness  of 
heaven  to  meet  there  the  good  and  excellent  of  former 
times,  —  the  patriarchs,  and  prophets,  and  apostles,  and  otbe 
benefactors  of  mankind.  But  this  happmess  would  be  who! 
ly  lost,  were  men  in  heaven  to  lose  their  peculiar  characters 
were  all  to  be  cast  into  one  mould,  were  all,  in  becoming 
perfect,  to  become  perfectly  alike.  No,  — heaven  will  not 
present  this  unvaried  and  dull  uniformity.  The  strong  lines 
of  character  which  marked  men  on  earth,  we  may  suppose, 
will  distinguish  them  hereafter.     Paul  will  retain  his  ardor, 


22  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

John  his  kindness,  Isaiah  his  imagination.  In  heaven  we 
shall  witness  every  form  of  intellectual  and  moral  excel- 
lence. Some  of  its  inhabitants  will  exhibit  to  us  the  milder, 
and  others  tiie  sublimer  virtues.  Some  will  be  distinguished 
by  glow  of  feeling,  some  by  profoundness  of  thouglit,  some 
by  activity  and  energy  of -will.  There  will  be,  too,  different 
degrees  of  the  same  excellence,  and  different  employments 
corresponding  to  the  character. 

"  The  true  view  of  heaven,  that  which  the  Scriptures 
give,  that  which  reason  sanctions,  and  that  which  we 
can  most  powerfully  realize,  is,  that  it  will  not  essentially 
change,  but  rather  improve,  our  nature.  We  shall  be  the 
same  beings  as  on  earth  ;  we  shall  retain  our  present  facul- 
ties, our  present  affections,  our  love  of  knowledge,  love  of 
beauty,  love  of  action,  love  of  approbation,  our  sympathy, 
gratitude,  and  pleasure  in  success.  We  shall  probably,  too, 
have  bodies  not  very  different  from  what  we  now  have,  — 
the  eye  to  behold  creation  and  receive  its  beauties,  the  ear 
to  hear  the  voice  of  friendship  and  to  receive  the  pleasures 
of  harmony,  and  even  sense  refined  and  purified.  This  we 
know,  that  Jesus  in  a  form  like  ours  ascended  into  heaven, 
and  when  Moses  and  Elijah  conversed  with  him  on  the 
Mount,  they  appeared  in  the  human  form,  differing  from 
ours  only  in  its  splendor ;  and  fi'om  these  facts  it  would 
seem  that  our  future  bodies  will  bear  a  general  resemblance 
to  the  present." 

1817.  Heaven  a  place  for  growth  and  action.  "  In 
heaven  the  understanding  will  be  called  into  vigorous  exer- 
cise, and  will  be  continually  enlarged  and  improved  by  ex- 
ertion. Some  persons  seem  to  conceive  that  the  mind  will 
at  once  attain  its  full  and  perfect  growth  in  the  future  world, 
that  it  will  ascend  immediately  from  this  region  of  darkness 
and  error  into  the  brightest  light  of  heaven,  that  it  will  ex 
pand  at  once  to  the  full  extent  of  its  capacities,  that  every 


HEAVEN    A    PKOCiRESSlVE    STATE.  23 

thing  which  is  to  be  known  will  at  once  be  acquired,  and 
therefore  that  new  acquisitions  will  not  be  proposed,  and 
will  not  of  course  awaken  its  activity.  But  this  is  an  im- 
agination altogether  unauthorized  by  Scripture,  a«d  it  differs 
so  entirely  from  present  experience,  that  nothing  but  posi- 
tive declarations  of  Scripture  can  give  it  a  claim  to  belief. 
In  this  life  progression  is  the  universal  law.  Nothing  is 
brought  into  being  in  its  most  perfect  state.  Every  thing 
r'.ses  to  maturity  from  feeble  beginnings. 

"  The  all-wise  Creator  delights  in  a  progressive  system, 
in  gradual  improvement,  not  in  immediate  perfection.  It 
is  his  uniform  method  to  conduct  beings  through  various 
stages,  not  to  fix  them  at  once  in  an  unchangeable  condition. 
Now,  such  being  the  method  of  Providence,  and  such  the 
nature  and  experience  of  man,  is  it  not  natural  to  expect 
that  ■  in  a  future  life  our  nature  will  be  progressive,  that 
the  knowledge  with  which  the  Christian  will  commence  his 
future  being  will  be  a  point  from  which  he  will  start,  a  foun- 
dation on  which  he  will  build,  rather  than  a  state  in  which 
he  will  eternally  rest  ? 

"  Freed  from  all  the  passions  and  prejudices  which  now 
darken  and  disorder  his  mind,  loving  the  truth  with  in- 
creasing ardor,  clothed  with  a  spiritual,  vigorous,  refined, 
immortal  body,  released  from  all  pain,  disease,  languor,  and 
relaxing  toil,  and,  above  all,  associated  with  enlightened 
and  benevolent  minds,  with  angels  of  light,  with  apostles, 
prophets,  sages,  with  Jesus  Christ,  who  is  the  wisdom  of 
God,  —  blest  with  all  these  aids  and  guides,  with  what 
rapid  steps  must  the  Christian  advance  in  the  knowledge  of 
God  and  of  his  works !  And  when  we  consider  that  this 
progression  will  be  eternal,  will  never  end,  what  an  aston- 
ishing conception  is  given  us  of  the  future  greatness  of  man ! 
We  cannot  follow  him  on  his  path  of  glory.  To  an  ever- 
progressing  being  no  limits  can  be  prescribed.  There  is 
no  rank  of  created  existence  to  which  he  will  not  ascend. 


24  Sl'IKITLTAL    GKOUTH. 

Where  seraphs  now  worship,  there  man  will  one  day  woi 
ship,  and  the  purest  praises  which  heaven  now  hears  will 
ascend  from  once  human  lips.  Are  there  orders  of  beings 
whose  expansive  minds  embrace  the  interests  of  worlds  as 
easily  as  we  do  the  concerns  of  our  business  and  families  ? 
The  mind  of  man,  continually  improving,  will  enjoy  the 
same  expansion.  I  am  lost  when  I  attempt  to  represent 
to  myself  human  nature  perfected  in  heaven  and  through 
endless  ages  approaching  its  wise  and  holy  Creator." 

1818.  Future  retribution.  "  It  seems  to  me  that  a 
man  of  common  understanding,  reading  the  Scriptures  with- 
out any  knowledge  of  the  way  in  which  they  have  been 
interpreted,  would  not  think  it  possible  that  the  doctune 
should  ever  have  been  drawn  from  them  that  there  is  to  be 
no  future  punishment.  Almost  any  opinion  would  seem  to 
him  to  receive  greater  countenance  from  the  Bible  than 
this.  Yet  this  opinion  has  found  strenuous  advocates  ;  and, 
from  its  very  nature,  it  has  not  been  advocated  without  mak- 
ing converts. 

"  This  error  should  be  resisted  with  earnestness,  because 
it  directly,  palpably,  and  without  disguise  diminishes  the 
restraints  on  vice.  It  is  at  war  with  society.  It  is  a  blov/ 
at  the  root  of  social  order.  It  lets  loose  those  propensities 
which  are  constantly  struggling  against  the  principle  of 
duty,  and  which  this  principle,  unaided  by  the  fear  of  future 
suffering,  is  in  multitudes  poorly  able  to  restrain.  The 
doctrine  I  am  opposing  goes  to  the  very  extinction  of  con- 
science. I  Conscience  in  man  is  an  echo,  if  I  may  so  speak, 
to  the  will  and  moral  sentiments  of  God.  Its  dictates  are 
authoritative,  because  we  feel  them  to  be  dictates  of  Him 
who  made  us.  A  sense  of  God's  abhorrence  of  sin  is  the 
chief  nourisliment  of  our  abhorrence  of  it.  Let  God  be 
viewed  as  so  unconcerned  about  character  as  not  to  punish 
the  guiltiest  life  as  to  fall  short  in  his  administration  of  the 


FUTURE    RETUlBUTIOJf.  25 

plainest  requisitions  of  justice,  and  a  deadly  torpor  would 
spread  over  the  human  conscience.  Moral  sensibility  would 
be  paralyzed 

"  The  effects  of  this  doctrine,  indeed,  may  not  ii^pediately 
appear,  because  its  very  extravagance  prevents  its  being 
thoroughly  believed,  because  it  cannot  eradicate  the  princi- 
ples of  our  nature,  and  cannot  entirely  efface  the  impres- 
sions of  education.  Guilt  and  punishment  are  seen  to  have 
a  connection  too  natural  and  intimate  to  be  wholly  sep- 
arated even  in  thought.  But  whilst  the  influence  of  the 
doctrine  may  be  counteracted  by  these  and  other  causes, 
such  as  natural  good  dispositions,  freedom  from  great  temp- 
tation, the  power  of  opinion,  and  the  like,  yet  its  proper  ef- 
fects must  be  always  bad  ;  —  its  fruits  are  bitter,  its  tenden- 
cy is  to  sin  and  death 

"  On  this  account,  I  believe  that  the  Scriptures  in  great 
wisdom  say  nothing  of  happiness  reserved  for  the  guilty  after 
they  shall  have  borne  the  penalty  of  their  sins.  If  that  hap- 
piness be  intended  for  them,  I  should  say  that  the  present 
life  is  not  the  proper  time  for  revealing  it.  Nothing  deci- 
sively clear  seen«s  to  me  laid  down  in  the  Scriptures  upon 
this  subject.  A  solemn  darkness  hangs  over  the  prison- 
house  of  the  condemned.  One  thing  alone  is  certain,  that 
we  shall  suffer  greatly  hereafter,  if  we  live  here  in  neglect 
of  God's  known  will,  his  providential  aid,  his  revelation  by 
Christ.  In  what  way  we  shall  suffer,  or  to  what  duration 
and  extent,  the  Scriptures,  it  .seems  to  me,  have  not  precisely 
defined,  and  we  need  not  to  know.  It  is  enough  to  have  the 
impression  that  a  great  woe  hangs  over  guilt,  and  that  we 
can  gain  nothing,  but  may  lose  every  thing,  by  persevering 
transgression.  It  is  true,  as  many  assert,  that  the  word 
"  everlasting,"  when  applied  to  punishment,  does  not  neces- 
sarily mean  without  end,  and  that  it  is  often  applied  to  de- 
note limited  duration ;  but  still,  that  there  will  be  a  limit  to 
future  punishment,  that  it   will    operate    to    reform    us,  or 

VOL.    II.  3 


26  SPIRITUAL    GIlUWTH. 

what  tnere  will  be  bounds  to  the  consequences  of  unfortunate 
guilt,  the  Scriptures  nowhere  declare.  God's  mercy,  if  it 
shall  be  extended  to  the  impenitent,  is  not  yet  revealed. 
The  future  is  filled  with  awful  gloom  to  those  who  are  now 
living  without  God,  and  it  is  but  kindness  towards  them  to 
encourage  no  delusive  hope.  Such  a  hope  forms  no  part 
of  my  message,  for  in  my  view  it  makes  no  part  of  revela- 
tion. The  Scriptures  show  us  the  wicked  banished  into  dark- 
ness. In  that  exile  it  leaves  them.  That  darkness  hides 
them  from  our  sight.  If  mercy  is  to  be  extended,  it  is  mercy 
to  be  revealed  hereafter.  It  is  not  to  be  taken  into  our  ac- 
count now,  in  estimating  the  consequences  of  sin." 

1816.  The  future  glories  of  the  good.  "  It  is  a 
very  interesting  view  of  death,  that,  instead  of  destroying,  it 
sets  a  seal  on  the  virtues  of  good  men,  the  seal  of  eternity. 
It  places  them  beyond  danger.  It  takes  them  from  a  region 
of  moral  infection,  where  they  sometimes  drooped,  where 
temptation  triumphs  over  the  most  experienced  in  piety, 
where  the  purest  excellence  can  hardly  be  viewed  without 
feelings  of  solicitude. 

"  When  we  think  of  the  good  and  holy  who  have  left  us, 
we  should  banish  from  our  thoughts  all  gloomy  images 
which  death  presents.  They  should  rise  before  our  minds, 
improved,  perfected,  clothed  with  a  new  lustre  of  goodness. 
We  should  think  of  them  as  ascended  to  a  purer  region. 
The  countenance  on  which  we  were  accustomed  to  see  the 
expression  of  all  kind  affections  should  shine  upon  us  bright- 
ened with  a  more  benignant  smile.  Their  piety  should  ap- 
pear as  raised,  refined,  and  kindled  into  purer  ardor  by  its 
near  approach  to  God.  We  should  see  them  surrounded 
with  better  friends  and  examples  than  tliosc  they  have  left, 
and  in  the  midst  of  the  purest  and  hapj)icst  society. 

"  That  in  this  wide  creation  there  are  spheres  of  nobler 
action  than  are  enjoyed  on  earth,  that  there  are  wider  fields 


THE  FUTURE  GLORIES  OF  THE  GOOD.         27 

for  the  powers  of  intelligent  beings,  and  more  generous  and 
glorious  objects  for  benevolence,  who  can  doubt  ?  This 
world,  it  is  not  unlikely,  is  the  abode  of  the  feeblest  and 
most  imperfect  members  of  God's  family.  It  is,jfcrhaps,  the 
sphere  of  the  humblest  labor.  Nowhere,  perhaps,  do  intelli- 
gent beings  enjoy,  expand,  so  little.  Go  where  we  will  in 
creation,  if  we  except  the  abode  of  the  condemned,  probably 
we  shall  find  more  improved  intelligence,  and  wider  spheres 
of  usefulness.  Our  present  experience  teaches  us  that 
God  delights  in  an  active  creation.  We  see  all  nature  in 
motion.  We  see  that  he  delights  in  accomplishing  his  most 
important  ends  by  the  agency  of  his  rational  creatures,  and 
that  thus  their  concurrence  with  the  creation  forms  at  once 
their  happiness  and  dignity.  Who  can  doubt  that  this  same 
principle  regulates  the  whole  universe  which  God  has  made, 
that  everywhere  his  purposes  are  committed  to  the  charge 
of  creatures,  that  all  spaces  and  ages  are  one  vast  field  of 
exertion  ?  Among  the  chief  wonders  and  glories  which  the 
future  world  is  to  disclose  to  us  will  be  the  enlarged  powers, 
relations,  and  influences  of  virtuous  beings. 

"  Let  us  not,  then,  imagine  that  the  usefulness  of  the  good 
is  finished  at  death.  Then  rather  does  it  begin.  Let  us  not 
judge  of  their  state  by  associations  drawn  from  the  chillness 
and  silence  of  the  grave.  They  have  gone  to  abodes  of  life, 
of  warmth,  of  action.  They  have  gone  to  fill  a  larger 
place  in  the  system  of  God.  Death  has  expanded  their 
powers.  The  clogs  and  fetters  of  the  perishable  body  have 
fidlen  off,  that  they  may  act  more  freely  and  with  more  de- 
light in  tlie  grand  system  of  creation.  We  should  represent 
them  to  our  minds  as  ascended  to  a  higher  rank  of  existence, 
and  admitted  to  cooperate  with  far  higher  communities. 
This  earth  was  only  their  school,  their  place  of  education, 
where  we  saw  their  powers  comparatively  in  an  infant  state. 
They  have  now  reached  a  maturer  age,  and  are  gone  to 
sustain  more  important  relations.     They  have  been  called 


-A 


28  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

because  their  agency  was  needed  in  higher  services  than 
those  of  this  world.  \Vhere  they  are  now  acting,  it  is  not 
given  to  us  to  know ;  but  the  all-wise  Father  can  never  bo 
without  a  sphere  for  the  virtues  of  his  children.  It  would  be 
grateful  to  believe  that  their  influence  reaches  to  the  pres 
cnt  state,  and  we  certainly  are  not  forbidden  to  indulge  the 
hope.  But  wherever  they  may  be,  ihey  are  more  useful, 
more  honorably  occupied,  than  when  on  earth ;  and  by  fol- 
lowing their  steps,  we  may,  however  separated  from  them 
during  life,  hope  to  obtain  admission  into  the  same  bright 
I'egions  where  they  are  pressing  onward  to  perfection." 

SECTION    SECOND. 

HLLMAN  NATURE. 

^^15.  Generous  views  of  man.  "  We  need  to  feel 
more  deeply  that  we  are  intrusted  with  a  religion  which  is 
designed  to  ennoble  human  nature,  which  recognizes  in  man 
the  capacities  of  all  that  is  good,  great,  and  excellent,  and 
which  offers  every  encouragement  and  aid  to  the  pureuit 
of  perfection.  I  The  Christian  minister,  in  preparing  his  dis- 
courses, should  often  recollect,  that  man,  degraded  as  he 
frequently  appears,  has  yet  powers  and  faculties  which  may 
be  refined  into  angelic  perfection,  that  he  is  invited  to  pre- 
pare for  the  community  of  angels,  that  he  is  formed  for 
endless  progress  in  intellectual  and  moral  excellence  and 
felicity.  He  should  often  recollect  that  in  Jesus  Christ  our 
nature  has  been  intimately  united  with  the  Divine,  and  that 
in  Jesus  Humanity  is  already  enthroned  in  heaven.  Famil- 
iarized to  these  generous  conceptions,  it  should  often  be  his 
object  in  preaching  to  unfold  to  men  their  capacities  of 
greatness,  to  reveal  the  splendor  of  that  destiny  to  which 
they  are  called  by  Jesus  Christ,  to  awaken  aspirations  after  a 
nobler  character  and  a  higher  existence,  and  to  inflame  them 
with  the  love  of  all  the  graces  and  virtues  with  which  Jesus 


CAPACITY    OF    GOODNESS.  29 

came  to  enrich  and  adorn  human  nature.  In  this  way  he 
will  prove  that  he  understands  the  true  and  great  design  of 
the  gospel  and  the  ministiy,  which  is  the  perfection  of  man's 

character ^ 

"  May  I  be  permitted  to  say,  that  perhaps  the  greatest  de- 
fect in  the  ministry,  as  at  present  conducted,  is,  tliat  it  is  not 
sufficiently  directed  to  ennoble  and  elevate  the  minds  of 
men.  It  does  not  breathe  a  sufficiently  generous  spirit.  It 
does  not  appeal  sufficiently  to  the  highest  and  best  princi- 
ples of  the  human  heart,  nor  delineate  with  sufficient  fre- 
quency and  energy  those  lofty  sentiments  and  deeds  to 
which  something  congenial  responds  in  almost  every  breast. 
It  appeals  too  constantly  to  the  lowest  principle  of  man's 
nature,  —  I  mean  the  principle  of  fear,  which,  under  judi- 
cious excitement,  is  indeed  of  undoubted  use,  but  which,  as 
every  parent  knows,  when  habitually  awakened,  is  always 
found  to  depi'Gss  and  debase  the  mind,  to  break  the  spirit,  to 
give  a  tameness  to  the  character,  and  to  chill  the  best  affec- 
tions. Perhaps  one  cause  of  the  limited  influence  of  Chris- 
tianity is,  that,  as  Christianity  is  too  often  exhibited,  it  seems 
adapted  to  form  an  abject,  servile  character,  rather  than  to 
raise  its  disciples  to  true  greatness  and  dignity.  Perhaps, 
J^  were  Christianity  more  habitually  regarded  as  a  system 
'  whose  chief  design  it  Ts  to  infuse  honorable  sentiments, 
an  ingenuous  love  of  God,  a  superiority  to  unworthy  pur- 
suits, ^_yirtue  akin  to  that  of  heaven,  its  reception  would 
bo  more  cordial,  and  its  influence  more  extensive,  more 
happy,  more  accordant  with  its  great  end,  —  the  perfection 
of  human  nature." 

1816.  Man's  capacities  of  goodness.  "  One  of  the 
great  characteristics  of  the  present  day  is  a  lowness,  a  sor- 
didness,  a  frigidncss  of  thought  and  feeling.  Men  think 
meanly  of  their  nature,  and  hence  their  conduct  is  selfish 
and  earthly.  We  do  not,  indeed,  see  men  in  general  givea 
3* 


30  SPIRITUAL   GROWTH. 

up  to  gross  vices.  We  do  not  meet  around  us  the  ferocity 
or  beastly  licentiousness  of  the  savage  state.  AVe  find 
many  marks  of  improvement,  when  we  compare  the  present 
with  earlier  ages.  But  there  is  little  elevation  of  sentiment. 
Comparatively  few  seem  to  be  conscious  of  their  high  orig- 
inal, their  capacities  of  excellence,  their  relation  to  God, 
their  interest  in  eternity. 

"  Blessed  be  God,  in  the  history  of  eveiy  age  and  nation, 
amidst  the  ravages  of  ambition  and  the  mean  aims  of  selfish- 
ness, there  have  broken  forth  nobler  sentiments,  and  the 
evidences  of  a  heavenly  virtue.  Every  age  has  been  illus- 
trated by  men  who  bore  themselves  like  men,  and  vindicated 
the  cause  of  human  nature,  —  men  who  in  circumstances  of 
great  trial  have  adhered  to  moral  and  religious  principle,  to 
the  cause  of  persecuted  truth,  to  the  interests  of  humanity,  to 
the  hone  of  immortality,  —  who  have  trodden  under  foot  the 
fairest  gifts  of  fortune  and  the  world  in  the  pursuit  of  duty. 
It  has  often  pleased  God  to  gather  round  these  men  the 
clouds  of  adversity,  that  their  virtues  might  shine  with  a 
sublimer  splendor.  This  is  the  greatest  value  of  history, 
that  it  introduces  us  to  persons  of  this  illustrious  order ;  and 
its  noblest  use  is  by  their  examples  to  nourish  in  us  a  con- 
viction that  elevated  purity  of  motive  and  conduct  is  not  a 
dream  of  fancy,  but  that  it  is  placed  within  our  reach,  and 
is  the  very  end  of  being. 

"  I  have  spoken  of  histoiy  as  refuting  the  low  conceptions 
which  men  form  of  their  nature ;  but,  without  looking  back 
to  former  ages,  may  not  every  individual,  amidst  the  corrup- 
tions of  present  society,  discover  in  his  own  sphere  some 
delightful  examples  and  illustrations  of  human  goodness  ? 
Does  he  not  discern  some  whose  names  arc  never  to  be  in- 
scribed on  the  rolls  of  earthly  fame,  and  who  can  boast  no 
distinction  of  intelligence  or  station,  but  whose  sincere  de- 
votedncss  to  God,  whose  gratitude  in  adversity,  wliose  pa- 
tience under  injury,  whose  cheerful  discharge  of  humble 


CAPACITY    OF    GOODNESS.  31 

duties,  whose  unwearied  zeal  in  doing  good,  afford  a  de- 
lightful proof  of  the  connection  between  the  human  and 
angelic  nature  ?  Let  none,  then,  say  that  the  corruptions  of 
society  forbid  us  to  believe  that  our  nature  is  sus(?6ptible  of 
high  advancement.  The  road  to  perfection  is  not  unex- 
plored. We  have  forerunners  in  this  path.  We  see  the 
traces  of  many  steps  directed  to  immortality.  Men  of  like 
passions  with  ourselves  have  subdued  temptation.  The 
good  and  great  were  not  miracles  in  the  moral  world. 
We  possess  the  same  power,  the  same  motives,  the  same 
heavenly  guide,  and  the  same  promise  of  Divine  assist- 
ance  

"  He  wlio  never  looks  up  to  an  excellence  higher  than  he 
has  attained,  who  never  regards  himself  as  formed  for  pure 
and  generous  sentiments,  who  never  admits  the  thought  that 
exalted  goodness  is  placed  within  his  reach,  will  never  put 
forth  his  powers  in  pursuit  of  virtue.  He  will  never  rise. 
He  dooms  himself  to  his  present  state.  Exertion  supposes 
that  good  may  be  attained,  and  vigorous  exertion  supposes 
that  the  mind  is  kindled  by  the  prospect  of  great  attain- 
ments. What  can  you  expect  from  him  who  sees  nothing 
in  the  future  better  than  the  past  ?  On  the  other  hand,  a 
belief  in  the  capacities  and  dignity  of  humanity,  a  belief  of 
its  future  glory,  a  belief  that  higher  excellence  is  the  very  end 
for  which  we  were  made,  is  a  spring  of  generous  and  unwea- 
ried activity.  This  faith,  when  deeply  fixed  in  the  mind,  is 
a  pledge  and  earnest  of  the  improvement  to  which  it  aspires. 
It  awakens  new  power  in  the  soul.  It  gives  a  natural  dignity 
to  the  thoughts  and  actions,  and  produces  an  almost  invol- 
untary abstinence  from  all  that  is  false  and  selfish. 

"  He  who  accustoms  himself  to  reflect  on  Jesus  Christ, 
on  his  apostles,  on  martyrs,  on  the  best  of  men,  on  the 
loveliest  and  sublimest  forms  of  humanity,  who  regards 
these  high  beings  as  his  forerunners  in  the  path  of  glory, 
and  whose  chief  prayer  is  that  he  may  walk  in  their  steps, — 


33  SPIRITUAL    JRO-WTII. 

this  man  lias  learned  the  true  secret  of  neatness.  Though 
on  earth,  he  has  taken  his  place  in  a  higher  world.  Blessed 
be  God,  these  consoling  and  encouraging  views  are  not  only 
authorized  by  the  gospel,  but  Jesus  Christ  came  for  tl.is  very 
end,  to  fix  them  in  our  minds,  to  make  tliem  the  rule  of  our 
lives.  His  great  object  was  to  exalt  us  to  true  glory.  His 
example  was  placed  before  us,  not  to  create  a  transient 
emotion,  but  to  show  us  to  what  height  our  nature  may  be 
raised." 

1818.  FoKCE  OF  MORAL  PURPOSE.  "  The  Christian  is 
known  by  the  energy  with  which  he  wills  to  do  right.  It  is  his 
distinction,  that  his  sense  of  religious  duty,  his  moral  princi- 
ples, his  purposes  of  virtue,  predominate  within  him.  He 
does  not  merely  love  what  is  good,  but  chooses  it  with 
power. 

"  We  hear  often  of  greatness  of  character.  The  only 
true  greatness  consists  in  unconquerable  purpose  of  obedience 
to  God.  It  consists  in  adhering  with  energy  and  courage  to 
truth,  duty,  and  honor.  It  consists  in  taking  our  rules  of 
action  from  our  own  minds,  enlightened  by  revelation,  and 
following  our  deliberate  convictions  of  right  in  the  face  of 
death  and  danger.  It  consists  in  asking  oui-selves,  first,  not 
what  is  expedient  or  safe,  but  what  is  generous,  excellent, 
and  acceptable  to  God ;  and  in  forming  purposes  of  recti- 
tude with  a  force  which  man  and  time  and  suffering  cannot 
subdue.  This  holy  energy  of  mind  is  the  only  true  great- 
ness, and  it  is  a  greatness  not  beyond  the  reach  of  our 
nature 

"  The  truly  interesting  portions  of  history  are  those  Avhich 
attest  the  moral  power  of  man,  which  show  us  fellow-beings 
sustained  by  inward  principle  and  confidence  in  God  under 
irie  heaviest  pressure  of  pain,  which  show  us  the  mind 
unchanged  in  prosperity  and  adversity,  passing  unmoved 
through  honor  and  disgrace,  clinging  to  excellence  when 


GREATNKSS  OF  CHARACTER.  33 

her  only  earthly  dowry  was  death.  Would  we  see  our 
nature  in  its  greatness,  we  must  see  it  forsaken  by  all  out- 
ward aids,  compassed  with  obstacles,  yet  steadfast,  gather 
ing  power  from  difficulty,  and  opposing  a  firmer  front  in 
proportion  to  the  violence  with  which  its  principles  are 
assailed. 

"  The  true  use  of  the  trials  and  temptations  of  life,  and  of 
the  turbulent  passions  in  our  own  breasts,  is  to  call  foith 
spiritual  energy  and  heroic  purposes.  God  might  have 
placed  us  in  a  world  where  duty  and  pleasure  would  have 
mingled  and  formed  one  current ;  but  where  would  have 
been  the  discipline  of  virtue  in  such  a  world  ? .  Under  such 
a  constitution  of  things,  our  nature  would  have  been  free 
from  sin  ;  but  whilst  every  stain  would  have  been  prevented, 
almost  every  bright  trace  of  moral  glory  would  have  been 
dim.  The  crown  would  have  fallen  from  the  head  of  good- 
ness. We  are  otherwise  circumstanced  ;  —  we  are  placed 
now  in  a  region  of  storms,  perils,  hardships ;  now  in  one 
of  blandishments,  seduction,  snares.  In  such  a  world, 
would  we  be  virtuous  and  make  progress  in  religion,  we 
must  put  forth  our  powers  to  choose  the  good  and  to  love  it 
entirely.  The  conscience  must  act  with  vigor.  Excellence 
must  be  pursued  earnestly.  An  inert  purpose  will  avail  us 
nothing.  Our  whole  nature  must  be  awake.  Who  does 
not  see  that  such  a  world  is  fitted  to  form  a  higher  order  of 
minds  than  a  state  removed  from  temptation  .'  True,  we 
must  toil,  but  the  harvest  is  rich.  We  must  fight,  but  the 
strength  we  gain  by  conflict  is  an  inestimable  compensation. 
Here  we  have  one  explanation  of  our  present  state.  We 
are  tried  as  by  fire,  that  we  may  come  forth  purer  -fcm  the 
furnace.  Our  virtues  are  in  peril,  that  we  may  hold  them 
with  a  firmer  grasp.  This  is  the  world  for  the  formation  of 
generous  and  resolute  spirits.  Let  its  purpose  be  in  us  fully 
accomplished 

"  This  force  of  principle  gives,  as  it  were,  new  power  to 


34  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

the  wliole  man.  AVith  this  inward  spring  how  much  can  we 
accomplish,  how  much  endure  !  Sustained  by  a  conscious- 
ness of  rectitude,  difficulties  no  longer  daunt  us,  and  hin- 
drances sink  before  us.  The  minds  of  men  are  exceedingly 
weakened  by  inconsistent  passions,  by  fear,  intereat,  regard 
to  opinion.  They  effect  little,  because  they  want  unilij.  He 
who  is  accustomed  to  ask  what  is  right,  and  to  espouse  it 
with  energy,  leaving  the  consequences  with  God,  derives 
new  power  from  his  singleness  of  purpose.  It  gives  him 
fearlessness  of  mind.  His  faculties,  concentrated  on  his 
duties,  act  freely  and  strenuously ;  he  perseveres  where 
others  would  droop,  and  succeeds  where  they  would  fail. 
Right  action,  by  being  in  itself  simple  and  harmonious, 
brings  an  immediate  reward  in  peace,  equanimity,  stead- 
iness. Strong  moral  principle  is  a  spring  of  honorable 
impulse,  and  gives  us  the  highest  use  of  all  our  facul- 
ties  

"  Force  of  moral  purpose  makes  us  happy.  Happiness 
does  not  consist,  as  men  are  too  apt  to  imagine,  in  passive 
enjoyments.  It  is  found  in  the  strenuous  use  of  our  best 
affections  We  enjoy  most  in  putting  forth  our  whole  na- 
ture, in  being  fully  alive  to  all  scenes  and  relations,  and 
especially  in  preserving  our  noblest  faculties  in  healthy  and 
efficient  activity.  There  is  a  constant  satisfaction  attending 
the  vigorous  exercise  of  conscience,  while  a  feeble  opera- 
tion of  the  moral  principle,  which  shows  us  what  is  right, 
but  gives  no  strength  to  perform  it,  is  a  source  of  constant 
misery.  There  is  an  exhilaration,  a  hope,  a  joy,  springing 
up  within  us  when  we  loill  with  power  what  we  see  to  be 
good,  when  we  are  conscious  of  treading  under  foot  the  low 
principles  and  interests  which  would  part  us  from  God  and  du- 
ty when  we  sacrifice  firmly  and  unreservedly  selfish  desires 
or  the  world's  favor  to  the  claims  of  Christian  rectitude. 
Moral  energy  inspires  an  unconquerable  resolution,  and  fills 
us  with  a  rare  delight.     The  mind  enlarges  itself,  and  gains 


SOURCES    OF    HAPPINESS.  35 

5  new  feeling  of  its  capacities  and  destination,  in  these  sea- 
sons of  generous  excitement;  just  as  the  body  seems  to 
gather  new  height  and  dimensions  when  a  person  is  upborne 
by  an  exaUed  sentiment.  The  most  cxulting^oments  of 
life  are  those  when,  after  a  conflict  of  strong  passion  with 
the  sense  of  duty,  we  come  off  conquerors,  and  are  con- 
scious that  we  have  risen  in  spiritual  existence.  A  feeling 
of  this  nature  becomes  in  a  degree  habitual  to  the  man 
whose  general  tone  of  mind  is  a  sincere  purpose  of  adher- 
ing to  the  path  of  Christian  virtue." 

1816.  Sources  of  happiness.  "  The  fatal  error  of 
multitudes  is,  that  they  hope  to  escape  their  present  discon- 
tented, uneasy  state  of  mind  by  improving  their  outward 
circumstances.  They  will  not  see  that  the  spring  of  miseay 
is  within,  that  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  all  earthly  objects 
combined  to  give  them  peace,  until  their  minds  are  purified, 
their  passions  governed  ;  until  they  have  made  their  peace 
with  God,  and  can  look  forward  with  some  well-grounded 
hope  to  futurity.  But  though  this  error  is  a  very  common 
one,  yet  I  cannot  conceive  a  more  obvious  truth  than  this, 
that  it  is  not  the  circumstances  which  surround  a  man,  but 
the  thoughts  and  feelings  which  are  most  familiar  to  his 
mind,  on  which  his  satisfaction  depends.  The  true  question 
as  to  happiness  is  not  '  Where  am  I  ?  Tn  what  state  or  rank 
do  I  exist  ?  '  but  '  To  what  end  is  my  mind  directed  } 
What  objects  have  acquired  the  control  of  my  affec- 
tions ? ' 

"  Life  is  designed  to  form  and  prove  our  characters,  to 
call  forth  our  powers,  to  bring  our  virtues  into  acts,  to  put  to 
the  test  our  moral  and  religious  principles,  and  thus  to  pre- 
pare us  for  higher  states  of  being.  Happiness  is  God^s  end  ; 
but  it  is  future,  not  immediate,  happiness,  —  a  happiness  for 
which  the  foundation  is  to  be  laid  in  present  improvement, 
which  we  are  to  earn  bv  exertion,  self-denial,  and  the  vol- 


36  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

untary  exercise  and  habitual  cultivation  of  the  best  affections 
of  which  our  nature  is  capable." 

1814.  True  happiness,  "The  true  happiness  of  man 
has  its  seat  in  the  mind  which  God  has  breathed  into 
us,  in  the  enlargement  of  its  powers,  in  the  elevation  of 
its  sentiments,  in  the  firmness  and  purity  of  its  princi- 
ples, in  its  ascent  to  its  native  heaven.  Compared  with 
the  capacities  of  this  imperishable  principle,  and  with  the 
means  of  unfolding  and  exahing  it,  eveiy  thing  outward  is 
worthless. 

"  The  best  of  all  the  blessings  which  God  gives  to  man 
is  a  heart  alive  to  what  is  great  and  good,  which  glows  at 
the  sight  of  excellence,  and  kindles  with  desire  to  become 
one  with  what  it  admires.  The  best  of  all  God's  blessings 
is  a  heart  which  is  accustomed  to  aspire  to  him  as  its  source 
and  destination,  which  is  alive  to  his  all-pervading  presence, 
which  meets  him  in  his  works,  converses  with  him  in  soli- 
tude, blesses  him  in  affliction,  prays  to  him  with  the  assur- 
ance of  being  heard,  and  hopes  from  him  all  which  infinite 
goodness  can  bestow.  The  best  of  all  blessings  is  a  heart 
which  partakes  God's  benevolence,  which  feels  its  relation 
to  the  universe,  which  is  bound  by  friendship  to  the  good,  by 
sympathy  to  the  afflicted,  and  by  an  overflowing  tenderness 
to  the  narrow  circle  of  domestic  life.  The  best  of  all 
blessings  is  a  heart  which  carries  with  it  a  consciousness  of 
its  unbounded  destiny,  which  looks  forward  to  eternity  as  its 
inheritance,  which  hopes  for  perfect  goodness,  which  feels 
alliance  with  higher  orders  of  beings,  and  anticipates  a  union 
with  the  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect,  with  departed 
friends,  and  with  the  ascended  Saviour.  In  such  a  state  of 
heart  is  the  true  happiness  of  man." 

1814.  Pehfect  society.  "  Perfect  social  happiness  is 
reserved  for  a  higher  stage  of  existence.     Fill  as  you  ought 


FULL    JUSTICE    TO    MAN.  37 

yoar  relations  here,  and  you  will  rise  to  a  better  world,  and 
be  welcomed  into  a  hajipicr  and  purer  community.  But  this 
is  not  all.  It  is  very  doubtful  whelhcr  we  should  be  the  hap- 
pier, if  our  social  connections  were  at  present  ii#»vprovcd  as 
much  as  we  desire.  We  desire  friends  who  will  regard  us 
with  unremitting  tenderness,  in  whose  society  we  shall  es 
cape  from  every  temptation,  who  would  fly  to  our  aid  in 
every  difficulty,  to  our  rescue  in  every  danger.  Th-? 
thought  of  such  friends  is  indeed  delightful ;  but  in  the  pres- 
ent life  we  are  not  worthy  of  them,  and  I  fear  they  would 
injure  us  by  the  very  excess  of  their  tenderness.  They 
would  probably  keep  us  all  our  lives  in  a  state  of  infantile 
dependence.  Relying  always  on  their  aid,  and  shielded 
always  by  their  care,  we  should  attain  no  firmness  of  char- 
acter, no  courage,  no  proper  self-dependence." 

1821.  True  benevolence  is  justice  to  man's  whole 
NATURE.  "  Man  is  not  mere  spirit,  and  that  benevolence 
which  should  regard  him  as  such,  and  in  its  zeal  for  his 
mind  neglect  entirely  his  outward  comfort,  would  be  even 
more  injudicious  than  that  which  spends  itself  exclusively  in 
relieving  animal  suffering.  Ti'ue  charity  regards  the  lohole 
nature  of  the  being  whom  it  would  assist.  Man's  animal 
wants  we  must  never  neglect,  under  pretence  of  a  refined 
and  spiritual  kindness  which  can  look  at  no  good  below  the 
mind. 

"  But,  on  the  other  hand,  we  must  not  stop  at  securing 
outward  good.  For  it  is  true  that  it  is  the  mind  which  spe- 
cially constitutes  the  man ;  and  although  want  may  be  re- 
lieved, yet  nothing  worthy  the  name  of  happiness  is  com- 
municated, unless  the  mind  be  benefited.  One  great  reason 
why  benevolence  has  not  done  more  good  is,  that  it  has 
been  too  superficial,  has  confined  itself  too  much  to  outward 
benefits,  has  not  regarded  man  sufficiently  as  an  intellectual 
and  moral  being,  nor  inquired  how  the  welfare  of  such  a 

VOL.    II.  4 


38  SriRITUAL    GROWTH. 

lieing  is  to  be  aJvanccd.  And  we  can  easily  explain  why 
kindness  has  thus  preferred  to  labor  for  the  outward  and 
bodily,  rather  than  the  inward  and  spiritual,  good  of  men  • 
for  benefits  of  the  first  class  are  promoted  more  easily 
and  suddenly  than  those  of  the  last,  and  are  more  ap- 
parent to  the  eye.  We  can  see  at  once  the  effects  of  our 
bounty,  when  we  put  raiment  on  the  naked,  or  give  a  shsl- 
ter  to  those  who  are  suffering  from  tlie  cold.  The  care 
spent  on  the  minds  of  the  ignorant  and  bad  does  not  yield  so 
ready  a  harvest.  The  process  of  growth  in  the  mind  is  not 
only  unseen,  but  slow  ;  and  yet  how  permanent  the  fruits 
of  its  culture  ! 

"  God's  best  gifts  are  those  which  he  diffuses  silently  ;  and 
so  it  is  with  man's.  The  secret  influence  of  a  good  man's 
example,  and  of  a  wise  man's  intelligence,  which  raises  in- 
sensibly the  hearts  and  minds  of  the  cn-cle  and  community 
in  which  they  move,  is  worth  more  than  any  efforts  of  out- 
ward benevolence,  though  they  might  escape  the  notice  of 
all  except  profound  and  judicious  observers 

"  The  noblest  benevolence  is  that  which  operates  on  the 
mmd,  which  seeks  the  happiness  of  men  by  contributing  to 
their  intellectual  and  moral  advancement ;  and  this  is  a 
great  work,  for  the  mind  is  a  complex  organization,  having 
various  powers,  capacities,  aflections,  and  the  true  happiness 
of  a  man  consists  in  the  development  of  all.  The  mind  is  a 
whole  as  truly  as  the  body ;  its  health  consists  in  a  general 
action  and  progress,  and  it  suffers  from  a  partial  culture  as 
really,  though  not  as  sensibly,  as  the  body  would  suffer,  if 
we  were  to  aim  to  strengthen  a  single  limb,  and  leave  the 
other  parts  to  pine.  Man  consists  of  reason,  conscience, 
affection,  will,  and  active  powers,  and  all  must  conspire  to 
form  an  harmonious,  happy  existence.  The  kindness  which 
seeks  to  call  tliem  all  forth  is  at  once  the  most  laborious 
and  the  most  divine. 

"  These  glorious  capacities  of  human  nature  have  as  ye 


FULL    JUSTICE    TO    MAN  39 

I  een  but  imperfectly  unfolded  ;  nor  has  the  full  develop- 
ment of  them  been  made  very  much  an  object.  In  vast 
numbers  of  men,  I  may  say  in  the  great  majority,  the  higher 
faculties  on  which  happiness  chiefly  rests  arc  ajjpost  locked 
up,  and  those  who  possess  them  have  no  consciousness  of 
the  immense  resources,  the  divine  gifts,  which  they  carry  in 
their  hearts.  Were  we  to  visit  a  country  where  the  great- 
est number  of  people  were  blind,  deaf,  palsied,  we  should 
look  on  them  with  deep  compassion  ;  but  to  a  reflecting 
man,  a  large  part  of  the  world  now  exhibits  a  scarcely  less 
afflicting  sight.  Human  nature  is  everywhere  seen  blind, 
deaf,  palsied,  as  far  as  its  highest  and  best  faculties  are  con- 
cerned  

"  The  idea  of  advancing  men's  happiness  by  such  an  ex- 
tensive development  and  improvement  of  the  moral  and 
intellectual  powers  of  human  nature,  as  has  now  been 
suggested,  may  seem  impracticable.  But  experience  has 
already  demonstrated  that  much  more  intelligence  can  be 
spread  through  all  classes  than  was  once  thought  possible  ; 
and  no  man,  who  compares  the  world  now  with  former 
periods,  can  doubt  that  a  vastly  larger  measure  of  knowl- 
edge, clearer  and  nobler  ideas  of  duty,  and  higher  views  of 
religion,  than  are  now  met  with,  except  in  persons  of  tne 
very  first  order  of  minds  and  the  purest  character,  can 
gradually  be  thrown  into  general  circulation,  and  infused 
into  men's  minds  through  all  classes  of  society.  Sociely 
grows  as  truly  as  the  individual,  and  is  becoming  ripe  for 
higher  instructions  than  were  given  in  its  childhood.  We 
are  too  apt  to  settle  down  in  the  present  state  of  things,  as  if 
it  were  immutable,  as  if  human  nature  had  reached  its  ulti- 
mate point  of  progression,  when  in  fact  the  springs  d  :.u- 
man  improvement  gain  strength  by  use,  and  every  advance 
makes  future  ones  more  easy.  Revelation  encourages  the 
most  generous  hopes  and  eflbrts,  for  it  clearly  points  to  a 
higher  condition   of  the    human   race    than    has   yet   been 


V 


to  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

reached  ;  and  that  this  is  to  be  promoted  by  man's  instru- 
mentality, God's  past  dispensations  compel  us  to  believe." 

1814.  Happiness  of  progress.  "  Progression  and  hap- 
piness are  intimately  connected.  To  rise  perpetually  to 
virtue  by  our  own  exertions,  to  look  back  on  the  path 
through  which  we  have  ascended,  to  raise  an  eye  of  hope  to 
brighter  eminences,  —  these  constitute  a  higher  felicity  than 
perpetual  uniformity  of  any  mode  of  bliss.  Now,  if  progres- 
sion thus  heightens  happiness,  is  there  not  an  advantage  in 
beginning  existence  in  our  present  very  low  condition  ? 
Were  I  to  indulge  myself  in  conjecture,  I  should  imagine 
that  archangels  commenced  their  course  in  circumstances  as 
humble  as  our  own,  so  great  appears  to  me  the  joy  of  prog- 
ress and  contrast,  of  passing  through  successive  stages  of 
existence,  of  gathering  the  knowledge  which  each  furnishes, 
and  of  experiencing  the  providence  of  God  which  all  con- 
spire to  illustrate.  Thus  our  present  imperfection  is  no  ob- 
jection to  Divine  goodness 

"  We  often  hear  complaints  of  the  feebleness,  darkness, 
and  errors  of  the  human  mind.  '  Why  are  we  not  intro- 
duced at  once  to  all  the  truth  which  we  are  capable  of  receiv- 
ing ?  '  it  is  asked.  Now,  that  ignorance  is  in  some  respects 
nn  evil  is  granted.  But  we  should  remember,  that,  were 
every  thing  known  to  us  at  first,  all  pleasure  of  discovery 
would  be  at  an  end.  The  charm  of  novelty  would  fade  and 
vanish.  The  mind  could  only  revolve  familiar  ideas.  Arc 
wo  sure  that  we  should  be  gainers  in  the  end  ?  To  our 
if^norance  wo  owe  the  delight  of  surprise,  the  ardor  of 
curiosity,  the  fresh  wonders  of  early  instruction,  and  tlio 
satisfaction  of  continually  adding,  if  we  please,  to  our  store 
of  knowledge.  We  are  ignorant;  but  what  a  magnificent 
school  is  the  creation  in  which  our  Father  has  placed  us  ! 
How  much  is  there  on  every  side  to  learn,  and  what  mo- 
tives and  aids  are  given  us  to  the  enlargement  of  our 
views! 


INDICATIONS    OF    IMMORTALITY.  41 

1815.  Indications  of  immortality.  "In  the  inexhaust- 
ible love  of  knowledge  which  animates  the  human  under- 
standing \vc  have  a  bright  indication  of  the  reality  of  a  fu- 
tuic  existence.  God  has  given  to  man  a  spirit  vv'hich  is 
evidently  designed  to  expand  through  the  universe,  which 
disdains  the  confinement  of  space,  and  which,  although  for 
ages  it  has  been  making  progress  in  the  knowledge  of 
nature,  still  thirsts  for  more  extended  information.  There 
is  a  restlessness  in  the  human  mind  which  no  acquisition 
can  allay.     Thought  is  for  ever  enlarging  its  horizon. 

"  Were  man  destined  to  live  only  in  this  world,  his  de- 
sires and  powers  would  have  been  fitted  wholly  for  this 
world,  and  his  capacities  would  have  been  limited  to  the 
means  of  present  enjoyment.  But  his  faculties  are  now 
continually  overleaping  the  bounds  of  earth ;  he  delights  in 
discoveries  which  have  no  relation  to  his  existence  on  this 
planet;  he  calls  to  his  aid  the  arts,  not  merely  to  render 
life  comfortable,  but  to  assist  him  in  the  most  remote  re- 
searches ;  invents  instruments  which  extend  his  sight  beyond 
these  visible  heavens,  and  reveal  hidden  stars  and  systems  ; 
and  presses  on  and  on  to  fathom  the  profoundest  secrets  of 
the  universe.  The  human  mind  has  an  intense  delight  in 
what  is  vast  and  unexplored.  Does  such  a  mind  carry  with 
it  no  proof  that  it  is  destined  to  wider  spheres  of  experience 
than  earth  affords,  —  that  it  is  designed  to  improve  for  ever 
in  the  knowledge  of  God's  wonderful  works  } 

"  In  man's  power  of  looking  forward  with  hope  to  distant 
and  everlasting  ages  we  have  a  second  clear  mark  of  a 
being  destined  to  another  existence.  Were  this  world  every 
thing  to  man,  his  longings  would  not  stray  beyond  its  brief 
span.  His  anticipations  would  be  proportioned  to  his  being. 
Of  what  use,  except  to  torment  him,  would  be  the  idc^a  of 
eternity  to  a  creature  of  time  ?  Why  kindle  in  man  the 
sublime  sentiment  of  immortaUty,  if  ihe  grave  is  to  be  his 
doom  ?     .  .  .  . 

4* 


42  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

"  Our  capacity  of  knowing  God  is  another  indication  that 
we  are  appointed  to  future  modes  of  being.  The  human 
mind  is  not  limited  to  objects  of  sense.  It  has  a  relish  for 
the  unseen.  It  for  ever  tends  to  rise  from  the  effect  to 
the  cause,  from  creation  to  its  Author.  This  tendency 
may  be  pronounced  one  of  the  essential,  instinctive  prin- 
ciples of  our  nature. 

"  Nor  is  this  desire  of  acquaintance  with  God  slight  and 
transient.  The  human  mind,  by  cultivation  of  pious  senti- 
ments, may  be,  and  often  has  been,  raised  to  an  intimate 
union  with  the  Divine  Being,  to  a  vivid  feeling  of  his 
presence,  to  an  habitual  discernment  of  him  in  his  works ' 
and  providence.  It  has  attained  to  sentiments  of  sacred 
rapture,  to  more  than  cai'thly  joy,  in  praising,  adoring, 
thanking  him  ;  and  just  in  proportion  as  the  heart  is  the 
abode  of  these  generous  emotions,  it  desires  a  nearer  ap- 
proach to  the  Divinity,  and  longs  for  an  improved  condition 
in  which  lie  may  be  worshipped  with  pure  and  perfect  love. 
When  a  mind  has  thus  become  alive  to  God,  it  clinss  to 
existence  with  increasing  earnestness.  It  cannot  endure  the 
thought  of  being  blotted  out  from  among  God's  works,  —  of 
being  deprived  of  the  consciousness  of  his  perfections,  — 
of  losing  for  ever  his  friendship,  —  of  rendering  him  no 
more  service.  Piety  necessarily  takes  this  form  of  desire 
for  near  communion  with  the  Infinite  Being  in  a  future, 
better,  endless  existence  ;  and  what  do  all  these  aspirations 
indicate  .'' 

"  We  have  another  indication  of  man's  future  life  in  the 
moral  sensibility  which  God  has  imparted  to  the  soul. 

"  The  human  mind,  notwithstanding  its  degradation,  h:,s 
something  in  it  congenial  with  excellence.  It  delights  to 
hear  and  read  of  angelic  worth  and  greatness  of  cliaracter. 
It  loves  to  conceive  of  more  perfect  forms  of  human  nature 
than  real  life  exhibits.  To  this  propensity  poetry  and  fic- 
tion are  indebted  for  their  origin.      Especially  when   the 


THE    SUBLIME    DESTINY    OF    MAN.  43 

mind  has  been  refined  by  the  practice  of  goodness,  does  it 
naturally  represent  to  itself  a  beauty  of  virtue  such  as  has 
never  been  attained  on  earth.  It  is  dissatisfied  with  all  that 
it  has  gained  and  pants  for  greater  purity.  Its  vwy  improve- 
'  ments  prompt  it  to  desire  a  better  existence,  where  present 
stains  and  imperfections  will  be  done  away,  where  it  will 
fill  a  wider  sphere  of  usefulness,  where  it  may  be  united 
with  the  excellent  whom  it  loves,  and  become  worthy  of 
their  friendship.  This  delight  in  goodness,  this  thirst  for 
perfection  with  which  the  human  mind  is  instinct,  is  full  of 
promise.  Were  this  life  every  thing  to  us,  would  God  have 
formed  us  thus  capable  of  conceiving  and  desiring  heights 
of  excellence  which  in  this  life  are  unattainable  ?  Will  he 
crush  the  hope  of  moral  progress  to  which  our  very  virtues 

give  intenseness  .'' 

"  The  man  of  refinement  and  sensibility  finds  himself  as 
it  were  in  accordance  with  universal  nature.  Every  scene, 
every  season,  touches  some  spring  in  his  heart.  The  stream, 
the  mountain,  the  ocean,  the  clouds,  the  distant  constellations, 
all  speak  to  him  in  a  language  that  he  understands.  There 
is  something  in  him  akin  to  all  this  beauty  and  sublimity, 
which  gives  him  a  claim  to  property  in  the  whole  creation. 
There  is  especially  in  the  soul  a  sensibility  to  the  grand, 
awful  scenes  of  nature.  Whatever  bears  the  impress  of 
infinite  majesty,  whatever  is  too  vast  to  be  grasped  by  the 
senses,  brings  to  the  heart  a  mysterious  delight.  Tiie 
storm,  the  thunder,  and  raging  ocean,  fearful  as  they  are, 
still  awaken  a  solemn  pleasure,  for  they  speak  to  us  of 
almighty  power,  and  accord  with  our  love  of  greatness. 
Now  this  sensibility  to  whatever  is  great  and  fair  in  univer- 
sal nature  seems  to  attest  the  glory  of  the  human  soul,  and 
to  point  out  to  it  a  sublime  destiny.  Why  has  God  placed 
man  amidst  this  boundless  theatre,  revealed  around  him  this 
endless  creation,  touched  his  heart  with  the  love  of  beauty, 
and   given  him    this  delightful   and    awful   interest   in  all 


44  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

that  meets  his  eye,  if  he  is  merely  a  creature  of  the  earth, 
soon  to  sliLit  his  eyes  on  these  majcslic  scenes,  and  to  be 
buried  for  ever  in  a  narrow  grave  ?  Docs  this  love  of  the 
infinite,  this  attachment  to  the  universe,  seem  suitable  to  so 
frail  a  nature  ?  Do  they  not  suggest,  the  idea  of  a  being 
who  belongs  to  the  universe,  and  who  is  to  fill  an  ever- 
widening  sphere  ?  

"  I  now  proceed  to  another  and  a  more  decisive  indication 
of  a  future  life,  which  is  furnished  us  by  human  nature.  1 
refer  to  the  capacity  which  man  actually  possesses  of  attain- 
ing to  greatness  of  character. 

"  Whilst  man  falls  far  below  the  perfection  he  desires,  he 
yet  is  sometimes  seen  to  ascend  to  a  sublimity  of  virtue 
which  docs  honor  to  our  nature,  and  proves  that  it  is  formed 
for  heaven.  We  shall  discover  in  history  persons  not  mere- 
ly faithful  in  their  regard  to  the  prescribed  duties  of  life, 
but  who  are  filled  with  a  grand  disinterestedness  of  charac- 
ter, a  sublime  goodness,  which  outstrips  what  is  positively 
demanded,  which  is  prodigal  of  service  to  God  and  man, 
and  overflows  with  sacrifices  and  sufferings  in  the  cause  of 
duty. 

"  These  great  examples  show  us  what  man  may  become, 
and  what  he  is  designed  to  be.  These  are  lineaments  of 
a  noble  nature,  marks  of  a  sublime  capacity,  a  sublime 
destiny.  We  all  have  sometimes  seen  our  nature  mani- 
fested in  these  honorable  forms,  have  seen  great  tempta- 
tions and  calamities  calling  forth  great  virtues,  have  seen 
the  human  countenance  bright  with  the  expression  of  mag- 
nanimous affections,  and  have  felt  how  lovely  and  how  glo- 
rious may  be  humanity.  And  can  we  believe  tliat  the  soul 
of  man,  gifted  with  such  capacities,  is  ci-eated  for  a  day  ? 
Can  we  think  that  the  great  men  who  have  thrown  such 
light  on  the  past  were  but  meteors,  extinguished  as  soon  as 
kindliid,  —  extinguished  in  the  midst  of  their  glory  .'  Why 
were  such  sublime  capacities  given  to  a  being  of  such  an 


TRIUMPH    OVF.K    DEATH.  45 

humble  destiny  ?  Docs  the  all-wise  Creator  thus  waste  his 
noblest  gifts,  and  is  he  so  unconcerned  for  those  on  whom 
these  fit'ts  have  been  conferred  ?  It  is  a  natural  sentiment, 
entitled  to  respect,  that  exalted  goodness  cannot^perish.  It 
is  fitted  for  a  better  world  than  this,  and  the  Creator  would 
be  dishonored  were  his  noblest  work  to  be  lost.  Nature 
may  pass  away,  but  can  goodness,  sublime  goodness,  that 
image  of  God,  be  destroyed  ?  And  if  human  nature  be  ca- 
pable of  this  goodness,  is  it  not  destined  to  immortality  ? 

"  Another  indication  of  a  future  state  suggested  by  our 
nature  is  to  be  found  in  the  triumph  which  man  often  ob- 
tains over  death,  in  the  manner  in  which  he  passes  through 
the  last  change. 

"  To  the  sensible  appearances  of  death,  so  sad  and  appall- 
ing, we  should  do  well  to  oppose  the  energy  of  soul  with 
which  it  is  often  encountered.  Then  death  itself  will  fur- 
nish us  with  a  proof  of  immortality.  Sometimes  the  hour 
of  death  is  an  hour  of  peculiar  glory  for  human  nature. 
Instead  of  being  conquered,  man  is  seen  to  conquer  the  last 
foe ;  and  he  seems  to  suffer  only  that  the  greatness  of  hu- 
manity may  be  developed.  In  instances  like  these,  the  last 
act  of  the  soul  is  an  assertion  of  its  immortality.  Can  we 
believe  that  this  moment  of  sublime  virtue  is  the  moment  of 
annihilation,  —  that  the  soul  is  extinguished  when  its  beauty 
is  most  resplendent  ?  If  God  intended  that  death  should 
be  an  eternal  extinction,  would  it  be  adorned,  as  it  often  is, 
with  a  radiance  of  the  noblest,  loveliest  sentiments  and  aflec- 
tions  of  our  nature  ?  Would  the  greatest  triumph  of  man  be 
the  harbinger  of  his  ruin  .' 

''•  There  is  another  view  yet  more  sublime.  I  refer  to 
the  death  of  the  martyr  to  religion,  to  his  country,  to  the 
cause  of  truth  and  human  improvement.  You  have  read  of 
men  who  preferred  death  to  desertion  of  duty.  They  en- 
countered the  menaces  of  power,  they  endured  the  gloom 
of   prisons,  and  at  length,  in  the  fulness  of  their  powers, 


46  SPIRITUAL    GIIOWTH. 

were  led  to  the  place  of  execution.  Their  steps  never  fal- 
tered, their  purpose  never  trembled,  their  looks  were  firm, 
yet  mild  and  forgiving,  and  with  unshaken  trust  in  God 
they  counted  it  an  honor  to  suffer  in  his  cause.  And  what 
now  shall  we  say  of  death  ?  That  it  triumphed  over  these 
men  of  unsubdued  virtue,  —  that  it  quenched  these  bright 
spirits  ?  Or  shall  we  rather  say  that  it  was  designed  to 
illustrate  the  immortal  energy  of  piety  and  virtue,  and  to 
show  that  the  faithful  soul  is  more  than  conqueror  over  the 
last  foe  ?  Can  we  think  that  God  impels  those  who  love 
him  by  the  best  principle  in  their  nature  to  encounter  death 
in  its  most  dreadful  forms,  and  then  abandons  them  to  final 
extinction  at  the  very  moment  when  they  must  be  to  him 
most  worthy  of  his  love  ? 

"  We  find  another  indication  of  immortality  in  our  nature, 
when  we  consider  the  principal  source  of  human  enjoyment. 
I  ask,  then,  what  is  this  principal  source  of  human  en- 
joyment ? 

"  A  slight  observation  will  teach  us  that  happiness  is  de- 
rived chiefly  from  activity,  from  conscious  growth,  from  the 
successful  effort  to  improve  our  powers,  from  rising  by  our 
own  energy  to  an  improved  condition.  It  is  not  what  we 
have  already  gained,  be  it  knowledge,  property,  reputation, 
or  virtue,  which  constitutes  our  happiness,  so  much  as  the 
exertion  of  our  faculties  in  further  acquisitions.  The  idea 
of  advancement  is  of  all  others  the  most  congenial  whh  the 
human  mind.  We  delight  not  so  much  in  possession  as  in 
pursuit,  not  so  much  in  holding  the  prize  as  in  pressing 
forward  to  seize  it  with  the  eye  of  hope.  The  feeling  of 
progress  is  the  great  spring  of  happiness  ;  and  it  is  this 
which  gives  cheerfulness  and  animation  under  the  sever- 
est lot. 

"  Now  what  does  such  a  nature  indicate  ?  Is  it  true  that 
man's  chief  happiness  consists  in  animated  pui-suit,  in  con- 
sciousness of  improvement,  —  that,  when  his  advancement  is 


MAN    DESIGNED    FOR    PERFECTION.  '     47 

most  swift  and  sure,  this  principle  most  prompts  him  to 
press  forward  ?  Is  not  perfection^  then,  the  end  of  his 
being  ?  Is  he  not  made  to  advance,  to  ascend,  for  ever  ? 
and  does  not  this  soaring  nature  discover  a  bejuig  designed 
for  a  forever  brio;htening  career  ?  Would  tliis  insatiable 
thirst  for  progress  have  been  given  to  a  creature  of  a  day, 
whose  powers  are  to  perish  just  when  beginning  to  unfold, 
and  whose  attainments  are  to  be  buried  with  him  in  eternal 
oblivion  ? 

"  If  this  world  were  our  home  and  our  only  portion, 
should  we  have  sentiments  implanted  by  our  Creator  which 
teach  us  to  live  above  it,  and  impel  us  to  feel  that  it  is  noble 
to  renounce  it  ?  Were  this  our  only  sphere  of  enjoyment, 
could  we  ever  deem  it  beneath  us,  unworthy  our  nature  ? 

"  But  this  is  not  all  ;  we  not  only  honor  men  when  they 
rise  above  the  world,  its  pleasures  and  gains,  —  we  particu- 
larly revere  them  when  they  hold  life  itself  with  a  degree  of 
indifference,  when  they  disdain  it  in  comparison  with  princi- 
ple, and  advance  to  meet  seeming  destruction  by  a  resolute 
and  unshaken  adherence  to  principle.  On  the  other  hand,  we 
feel  a  contempt  for  those  who  cling  to  life  as  the  best  of  bless- 
ings. We  cannot  endure  the  coward,  while  we  are  lenient 
even  towards  the  excess  of  courage.  We  view  with  admi- 
ration the  man  who  is  prodigal  of  life  in  an  honorable  cause, 
and  who  prefers  death  to  the  least  stain  of  guilt.  Now  these 
feelings  surely  indicate  that  the  present  is  not  our  whole 
existence.  Wei*e  this  life  every  thing  to  us,  should  we  be 
so  constituted  as  to  consider  the  voluntary  relinquishment  of 
it  as  the  noblest  deed  }  Should  we  have  feelings  which  im- 
pel us  to  cast  it  away  }  Were  death  entire  and  eternal 
extinction  of  all  our  power  and  virtue,  would  the  welcoming 
of  it  appear  the  height  of  glory  ?  All  these  feelings  which 
I  have  considered,  and  which  prompt  us  to  sacrifice  the 
world  and  life  to  the  purity  of  the  soul,  are  so  many  attes- 
tations from  God  to  the  dignity  of  the  soul,  so  many  assur- 


48  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

ances  that  it  is  destined  for  liigher  relations  than  those  which 
it  now  sustains  to  the  body  and  llic  world." 

1814.  Greatness  of  human  nature,  as  revealer  by 
Jesus  Christ.  "  Consider  the  discoveries  which  Jesus  Clirist 
lias  made  of  the  glory  of  liuraan  nature.  His  gospel  may 
be  said  to  be  a  revelation  of  vian  to  himself.  It  calls  us 
liomc  to  our  own  hearts,  and  there  discloses  to  us  capacities 
which  should  awaken  the  profoundest  gratitude  and  admira- 
tion. The  great  unhappiness  of  men  is,  that  they  live 
abroad,  they  lose  themselves  in  the  accidents  around,  they 
are  engrossed  by  outward  events,  by  the  changes  of  the 
natural  or  political  world.  They  do  not  explore  the  grander 
world  within. 

"  Jesus  Christ  thought  nothing  worthy  of  his  notice  but 
the  soul  of  man  ;  and  the  whole  tone  of  his  gospel  is,  that 
the  soul  is  capable  of  all  that  is  great  and  excellent,  that  it 
may  become  the  image  of  God,  that  it  may  ascend  to  the 
glory  and  purity  of  angels.  It  is  constantly  his  doctrine, 
that  man  is  appointed  to  join  the  society  of  heaven,  and  th.at 
he  will  there  shine  as  the  sun,  that  he  will  exchange  his 
present  imperfection  for  spotless  purity.  As  in  the  child  we 
view  the  future  man,  so  in  man  we  are  taught  by  the  gospel 
to  view  the  germ  of  the  future  angel.  AVe  are  taught  that 
there  is  no  height  of  excellence  in  the  universe  to  which  the 
human  mind  in  the  progress  of  eternity  may  not  attain. 
These  are  views  which  have  little  to  interest  him  who  never 
reflects  on  his  inward  nature,  who  only  feels  that  he  has  a 
body  and  organs  of  sense,  and  who  thinks  the  highest  hap- 
piness is  to  be  found  in  the  gratifications  of  the  brute.  But 
there  are  those  who  feel  conscious  of  the  heavenly  principle 
within  them,  who,  at  the  sight  of  distinguished  virtue,  pant 
to  attain  to  its  resemblance,  who  kindle  at  the  thought  of  a 
boundless  progression,  of  a  never-ending  ascent  towards 
God.     To  such  persons  how  delightful  is  the  confirmation 


THE    SPIKIT    OF    CHRIST.  49 

wnich  the  gospel  gives  to  the  wishes  and  aspirations  of  their 
belter  nature  !  What  a  splendor  is  thrown  lound  human 
nature,  when  it  is  thus  viewed  as  the  future  associate  of  all 
that  is  most  excellent  in  heaven,  as  the  bright  ii^flection  of 
the  glorious  goodness  of  the  Creator  !  " 

SECTION   THIRD. 
CHRIST   AND   CHRISTIANITY 

1815.  The  end  of  Christianity.  "  This  idea,  that  the 
great  end  of  Christianity,  of  the  mission  of  Jesus,  is  to  exalt 
the  human  character,  although  it  runs  through  the  Scrip- 
tures, has  been  very  much  overlooked.  Christians  have 
been  inclined  to  believe  that  Christ  lived  and  died  to  influ- 
ence the  mind  of  God,  rather  than  the  mind  of  man,  —  to 
make  God  favorable  to  us,  rather  than  to  make  us  obedient 
to  God. 

"  I  cannot  but  believe  that  this  is  a  very  erroneous  view, 
and  utterly  unauthorized  by  the  Scriptures.  The  Scriptures, 
I  think,  lead  us  to  believe  that  holiness,  or  excellence  of 
character,  is  a  vastly  greater  blessing  than  pardon  or  for- 
giveness. According  to  the  Scriptures,  it  is  a  greater  privi- 
lege to  be  delivered  from  the  polluting  power  than  from  the 
consequences  of  sin.  According  to  the  Scriptures,  holiness, 
goodness,  virtue,  is  the  pearl  of  great  price.  It  is  God  him- 
self dwelling  in  the  human  heart.  It  is  heaven  enjoyed  on 
earth. 

"  There  is  no  happiness  but  in  goodness.  This  is  the 
felicity  of  God,  and  this  is  the  best  gift  he  imparts  to  his  crea- 
tures. The  noblest  work  of  God  is  a  holy,  pure,  virtuous 
mind ;  and  Jesus  Christ  can  perform  no  ministry  more  noble 
Chan  the  recovering  of  a  sinful  mind  to  a  heavenly  state." 

1817.  The   spirit  of  Christ.     "  Our  religion  demands 
of  us  not  merely  single  acts  and  feelings,  but  a  character  o 
VOL.    It.  5 


50  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

general  frame  of  mind.  We  must  have  Chnst's  spirit,, 
which  means  his  temper;  or,  in  other  words,  we  must  have 
an  habitual  state  of  the  soul  answering  to  our  Lord's 

"  The  great  principle  which  runs  through  and  binds  to 
gether  all  parts  of  the  Christian  system  is  this,  —  that  oui 
happiness,  our  eternal  happiness,  depends  on  the  character 
we  form.  Men  are  very  apt  to  forget  that  in  every  thing 
but  religion  they  estimate  one  another,  not  by  occasional 
acts,  but  by  the  general  frame  of  the  mind.  There  is  such 
a  thing,  we  all  know,  as  character,  something  very  different 
from  particular  actions  and  occasional  feelings,  something 
prominent  in  the  mind,  and  which  works  itself  into  almost 
all  the  life.  Character  is  not  something  which  we  put  on  at 
one  moment  and  put  off  at  another,  not  something  reserved 
for  great  occasions,  or  which  appears  only  in  striking  ac- 
tions. It  influences  the  common  decisions  of  the  judgment. 
It  gives  a  peculiar  form  to  the  common  opinions  and  pur- 
poses of  the  individual,  and,  still  more,  it  pervades  the  whole 
mind 

"  Jesus  Christ  did  not  come  to  work  upon  the  surface  of 
the  human  heart,  but  to  pervade  it  with  his  religion  ;  he  did 
not  come  to  inculcate  transient  feelings  and  actions,  but  to 
implant  permanent  principles,  to  give  a  new  life  to  the  soul. 
It  is  well,  it  is  necessary,  that  we  should  know  the  large 
demands  of  his  gospel,  so  as  not  to  lose  its  blessings  by 
stopping  at  low  attainments,  —  so  as  to  propose  seriously 
the  acquisition  of  that  devout,  benevolent,  and  heavenly 
temper  which  is  the  very  essence  of  his  religion.  We  can- 
not be  too  sensible  that  to  be  a  Christian  is  a  great  work. 
If  v\e  do  not  rightly  estimate  the  difliculties  of  our  task,  how 
can  wo  apply  to  it  with  perseverance,  resolution,  spirit,  and 
success  ?  We  have  to  incorporate  Christian  principles  into 
our  very  souls.  We  have  an  inward  conflict  to  sustain,  a 
glorious  change  to  accomplish,  by  Cod's  assistance,  in  that 
mind  which  is  most  properly  ourselves." 


Christ's  humble  mode  of  life.  51 

1819.  Christ's  humble  mode  of  life.  "  We  represent 
Jesus  Christ  to  ourselves  as  the  most  august  being  who  ever 
moved  on  the  earth.  He  is  separated  in  our  thoughts  from 
all  other  men.  His  unparalleled  birth,  his  c*oss,  his  resur- 
rection, his  ascension,  and  his  future  glorious  appearing  to 
judg(;  the  world  are  all  blended  in  our  minds  ;  and  when 
we  read  a  passage  in  his  history,  it  is  this  peculiar  being,  in 
whom  so  many  splendors  meet,  and  whose  humanity  is  lost 
in  his  superhuman  power  and  exaltation,  who  speaks,  acts, 
and  makes  himself  known  to  us.  In  this  way  we  forget 
how  he  really  appeared  to  his  contemporaries.  It  is  true, 
we  speak  of  his  poverty.  We  hear  that  moving  declara- 
tion, — '  Foxes  have  holes,  and  birds  of  the  air  have  nests, 
but  the  Son  of  Man  hath  not  where  to  lay  his  head  ' ;  still, 
the  imagination  is  too  accustomed  to  other  views  to  conceive 
of  the  truth  clearly  and  with  force. 

"  I  suspect,  too,  that  we  are  most  of  us  influenced  more 
or  less  by  the  repi'esentations  which  painters  have  given  of 
the  events  of  Christ's  life.  In  these  our  Master  is  placed 
before  us  with  a  glory  round  his  head,  in  a  flowing  and 
often  splendid  robe,  his  countenance  singularly  fair,  as  if 
the  rough  winds  had  not  visited  it,  and  his  attitude  studiously 
majestic  and  commanding.  In  other  words,  the  artist  labors 
to  represent  in  Jesus  ideal  beauty  and  grandeur.  Through 
the  eye  the  imagination  is  more  influenced  than  by  reading. 
Our  conceptions  of  the  Saviour  when  on  earth  are  taken 
from  such  delineations.  But  the  views  of  Jesus  which  are 
very  plainly  given  us  in  the  New  Testament  present  an 
image  of  his  appearance  very  different  from  what  our  im- 
aginations, aided  by  these  outward  delineations,  usually 
form.  Let  us  see  the  facts  as  they  were,  by  means  of  a 
familiar  illustration.  Suppose,  then,  my  friends,  that  there 
should  appear  on  our  exchange  a  young  man  of  thirty  years 
of  age,  in  the  dress  of  a  laborer,  from  an  obscure  and  dis- 
tant village,  accompanied  by  a  small  number  of  peasants 


52  SPiniTLML    GKOVVTH. 

and  fishermen,  to  whose  houses  he  was  in  the  habit  of  re- 
pairing for  food  and  lodging.  I  would  have  you  bring  this 
illustration  home.  It  will  help  you  to  conceive  of  the  im- 
pression made  by  Jesus,  especially  at  first  sight,  on  tlioso 
who  personally  knew  him." 

1817.  Love  for  Jesus  Christ.  "There  is  a  wonderful 
combination  of  affecting  circumstances  in  the  history  of 
Jesus  Christ.  His  original  glory,  which  he  had  with  the 
Father  before  the  world  was,  his  humiliation  in  taking  on 
him  human  nature,  his  unbounded  attachment  to  mankind, 
the  sCistained  labor  of  his  life,  the  patience  of  his  sufferings, 
his  unconquerable  love  amidst  ingratitude  and  outrage,  his 
blood  shed  for  us,  and  his  sublime  triumphs  over  death, — 
these  are  elements  which  combine  to  form  the  loveliest 
and  most  exalted  character  toward  which  human  thought 
was  ever  turned.  History  and  society  offer  us  individuals 
marked  by  high  virtues,  and  the  happiness  of  conversing 
with  and  loving  them  is  among  our  most  exquisite  enjoy- 
ments. But  Jesus  leaves  behind  him  at  an  immeasurable 
distance  the  great  and  good  of  this  world,  whether  we 
regard  the  vastness  of  his  purposes,  or  the  disinterestedness 
and  fervor  of  his  benevolence.  It  is  a  great  excellence  of 
the  gospel,  that  it  reveals  to  us  such  a  character  as  Jesus. 
Its  blessings  are  heightened  by  flowing  to  us  through  a 
friend  and  deliverer  so  suited  to  awake  our  best  sensi- 
bilities. The  Christian  finds  in  Jesus  Christ  a  source  of 
perpetual  delight.  No  history  interests  him  like  the  gospel. 
His  heart  often  burns  as  he  reads  the  labors,  and  sulferings, 
and  virtues  of  his  Lord.  How  often  does  his  mind  turn  with 
a  mixture  of  tenderness  and  admiration  to  his  cross,  and 
with  what  delight  does  he  welcome  him  risen  from  the 
dead  !  He  thinks  of  heaven  with  a  new  interest  as  the 
place  where  he  shall  meet  his  friend  and  express  to  him 
his  thankfulness 


LOVE    FOR    CHRIST.  53 

"  The  Christian,  conversing  with  an  excellence  descended 
from  heaven,  which  is  untainted  by  tlie  sordidness  and  im- 
perfection of  all  human  virtue,  acquires  a  relish  for  eminent 
purity  ;  instructed  as  he  is,  that  this  lovely  model  is  placed 
before  him  for  the  very  purpose  of  forming  him  to  perfec- 
tion, he  cannot  be  satisfied  without  a  consciousness  of  ap- 
proaching it 

"  The  Christian  finds  a  holy  life  accompanied  by  a 
peculiar  pleasure.  It  is  a  life  not  urged  on  him  by  a 
stranger,  or  by  an  equal,  but  by  the  voice  of  a  heavenly 
friend.  The  Sermon  on  the  Mount  is  not  merely  a  collec- 
tion of  admirable  precepts,  but  the  affectionate  exhortation 
of  his  crucified,  risen,  and  glorified  Redeemer.  The  diffi- 
culties of  obedience  are  mitigated,  self-denial  is  sweetened, 
by  the  consideration  that  he  is  following  such  a  master. 

"  These  remarks  show  the  erroneousness  of  a  sentiment 
which  has  sometimes  been  expressed,  and  has  lurked  in 
minds  which  have  not  uttered  it,  that  strong  affection  to- 
wards Jesus  Christ  is  not  of  primary  importance,  —  that  our 
views  and  feelings  in  regard  to  him,  however  low,  are  suf- 
ficiently elevated, —  that  our  chief  business  is  to  obey  his  pre- 
cepts, and  that,  if  these  are  obeyed,  the  great  object  of  his 
mission  is  secured.  But  how  obvious  is  the  sentiment,  that 
obedience  *to  Christ's  precepts  is  intimately  connected  with 
high  conceptions  of  his  character,  and  with  strong  aflTection 
towards  him  !  Will  not  the  heart  which  is  most  accustomed 
to  meditate  upon  the  greatness  of  Christ's  goodness  feel 
most  the  obligation  of  his  law  of  love .'  Will  not  the  mind 
which  regards  him  not  only  as  a  prophet,  but  as  a  Saviovx 
by  whose  mediation  and  sufferings  God  has  been  pleased 
to  redeem  the  world,  which  is  touched  and  softened  by  his 
character  and  near  relation  to  the  human  race,  —  will  not 
such  a  mind  be  peculiarly  prompted  to  a  cheerful  service, 
to  an  animated  obedience  }  " 


5-4  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

1819.  Christ's  love  for  man.  "  It  is  not  possible  for  us 
to  conceive  fully  the  love  of  Christ,  because  his  state  before 
entering  the  world  is  known  imperfectly,  and  of  course  the 
greatness  of  the  sacrifice  which  he  made  for  us,  and  which 
is  the  best  measure  of  love,  cannot  be  estimated. 

"  There  are,  you  well  know,  several  passages  of  Scripture 
which,  if  literally  taken,  teach  that  Christ  existed  before  he 
came  into  the  world.  And  we  have  this  very  sufficient 
reason  for  interpreting  these  passages  literally,  that  liis 
whole  character  and  the  offices  which  he  bears  imply  a 
more  than  human  dignity.  In  the  first  place,  Jesus  Christ 
spoke  and  acted  as  if  he  was  more  than  man,  —  as  if  he  was 
conscious  of  superiority  to  all  around  him.  There  is  a  dig- 
nity, an  authority,  about  him  altogether  peculiar,  and  such,  I 
think,  as  would  not  have  been  becoming  in  a  mere  man,  ia 
his  intercourse  with  brethren  essentially  his  equals.  The 
spotless  purity  of  Jesus  is  another  broad  line  of  distinction 
between  himself  and  all  other  men,  something  not  to  be  ex- 
plained by  difference  of  circumstances  or  education.  To  be 
absolutely  sinless  is  to  be  that  which  human  nature  never 
was  before,  and  never  has  been  since  the  time  of  Christ,  and 
which  is  not  to  be  expected  in  a  mere  human  being  in  the 
present  life.  Finally,  consider  the  offices  which  Jesus  sus- 
tained, of  Saviour  of  the  world,  the  One  Mediator  between 
God  and  man,  the  Prince  of  Life,  who  is  to  raise  the  dead 
and  to  judge  mankind,  —  do  these  offices  appear  to  be  com- 
patible with  simple  humanity  ?  Do  they  belong  to  a  being 
who  himself  needs  a  mediator,  who  himself  lias  sins  to  be  par- 
doned ?  For  this  must  have  been  true  of  Christ,  if  he  was 
a  mere  man.  I  have  just  glanced  at  a  few  considerations 
which  tend  to  prove  a  more  than  human  greatness  in  Jesus 
Christ,  and  which  seem  to  me  to  require  that  we  should  inter- 
pret literally  the  passages  in  which  he  is  said  to  have  come 
down  from  heaven,  and  to  have  had  a  glory  with  the  Father 
before  the  world  was. 


CHKIST  S    LOVE    FOR    MAN.  55 

"  Jesus  Christ,  then,  existed  before  he  came  into  the  world, 
and  in  a  state  of  great  honor  and  felicity.  He  was  known, 
esteemed,  beloved,  revered,  in  the  family  of  heaven.  Fie 
was  intrusted  with  the  execution  of  the  most 'sublime  pur- 
poses of  his  Father.  He  is  spoken  of  as  the  highest  intelli- 
gent being  next  to  Him  who  is  the  fountain  and  source  of  all, 
and  he  was  in  happiness  as  in  glory  the  most  express  image 
9f  God.  These  views,  which  seem  to  me  to  be  warranted 
by  the  Scriptures,  show  us  a  strength  of  love  beyond  expres- 
sion in  the  entrance  of  Jesus  Christ  into  this  world,  to  live 
and  to  die  a  man  of  sorrows.  We  have  here  a  sacrifice  for 
the  well-being  of  mankind  to  which  nothing  in  our  experi- 
ence furnishes  a  parallel 

"  If  the  dignity  of  Christ  was  such  as  we  have  supposed, 
then  the  history  of  the  universe  contains  no  manifestation  of 
pure,  devoted  love  so  stupendous  as  his ;  and  angels,  who 
knew  the  Saviour  in  his  brightness  and  joy,  must  have  re- 
ceived from  his  humiliation  and  suffering  an  impression  of 
what  charity  can  perform  and  endure,  such  as  no  other 
transaction  can  have  given.  I  repeat  it,  the  greatness  of 
Christ's  love  cannot  be  adequately  known,  until  we  shall 
know  hereafter  the  height  from  which  he  came  to  our 
rescue,  the  glory  of  which  he  divested  himself,  the  riches 
which  he  parted  with,  to  become  poor,  that  we  through  his 
poverty  might  be  made  rich.  We  can,  however,  understand 
something,  even  here,  of  this  love.  The  fact,  that  such  a 
being  was  attracted  to  us  by  our  miseries,  that  through  the 
power  of  love  he  came  to  take  upon  him  our  griefs,  and  ex 
changed  heaven  for  the  cross,  —  this  fact  is  a  revelation  of 
generous  affection,  brighter  than  the  sun  ;  and  if  believed, 
it  ought  to  work  in  us  more  powerfully  than  all  other 
events 

"  To  feel  the  strength  of  Christ's  benevolence  whilst  he 
was  on  earth,  we  must  consider  that  it  received  no  aid  from 
any  persons  around  him.     It  is  comparatively  easy  to  cher- 


56  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

ish  a  sentiment  which  operates  in  every  other  breast,  to  re 
fleet  a  light  which  shines  strongly  on  every  side.  But  the 
benevolence  of  Christ  received  no  accession  from  sympathy. 
The  fountain  of  this  living  water  was  within  himself.  He 
drew  his  love  from  his  own  will.  The  age  in  which  he 
lived  had  no  thought  of  a  benevolence  so  purified,  extended, 
and  disinterested  as  his.  It  was  a  selfish,  exclusive,  bigoted 
age.  The  characters  of  the  most  improved  were  narrowed 
and  debased  by  prejudice.  Jesus  Christ  is  seen  to  have 
been  a  lonely  being,  even  among  his  disciples,  when  the 
tone  and  temper  of  his  mind  are  considered.  No  one  feit 
like  him,  or  could  lend  fervor  to  his  charity,  llis  love  can- 
not but  impress  us,  when  we  thus  consider  how  solitary,  how 
unborrowed  it  was,  how  it  resisted  every  social  influence  and 
example,  in  how  full  a  river  it  flowed  through  a  parched 
land,  from  which  it  received  no  tributary  stream. 

"  To  feel  as  we  ought  the  love  of  Christ,  we  should 
consider  also  its  extent.  In  reading  his  history,  we  see  it 
spreading  over  the  whole  face  of  society,  comprehending  all 
orders  of  men,  and  embracing  every  human  relation  and  in- 
terest. His  love  did  not  owe  its  strength,  as  ours  too  often 
does,  to  its  limitation.  The  current  was  not  powerful  be- 
cause hemmed  in.  It  was  not  a  close  circle,  within  which 
his  afTection  glowed  to  intenseness.  He  felt  that  the  world 
was  his  home,  and  there  was  a  prodigal  liberality  in  his  af- 
fection. He  could  not  be  happy  but  in  expanding  his  sym- 
pathy to  the  whole  range  of  man's  wants  and  sorrows. 
There  was  no  class  of  human  beings  beneath  his  notice. 
If  he  preferred  any  in  regard,  it  was  the  poor  and  foi-saken  , 
precisely  because  they  needed  most  a  friend  and  benefactor. 
The  place  of  instruction  in  which  he  seemed  to  take  partic- 
ular pleasure  was  the  open  air,  where  all  might  hear  him. 
His  chanty,  like  that  light  to  wliich  he  often  compared  him- 
self, fell  on  all.  It  spread  from  the  little  cliild  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth.     It  blessed  individuals  who  were  near  him,  and  at 


Christ's  love  for  man.  57 

the  same  time  readied  the  most  remote  nations  and  ages. 
In  the  same  breast  dwelt  the  tenderness  of  a  son  for  an 
amiable  mother,  and  the  vast  charity  of  the  Saviour  of  the 
world.  His  benevolence  partook  at  once  the  character  of 
the  stream  which  winds  through  the  valley,  and  of  the 
mighty  ocean  which  connects  all  lands. 

"  Again,  to  perceive  the  strength  of  Christ's  love  during 
liis  ministry  on  earth,  we  must  remember  that  he  carried 
with  him  a  consciousness  of  his  immense  superiority  to  all 
around.  He  was  not  a  man  moving  among  equals.  He  re- 
membered the  glory  he  had  left,  and  to  which  he  was  to  re- 
turn. The  wisest  and  best  around  him  must  have  appeared 
to  him  like  children.  There  wei'e  none  in  whose  society  he 
could  find  the  refreshment  and  pleasure  which  we  derive 
from  equal  and  congenial  minds.  Now  it  is  when  men  are 
surrounded  by  inferiors,  that  their  pride,  contempt,  impa- 
tience, and  weariness  perpetually  break  forth.  What  a  strik- 
ing proof,  then,  of  the  benevolence  of  Jesus  is  it,  that,  so 
far  from  exhibiting  indifference  or  contempt,  he  was  distin- 
guished by  a  lowly  and  gentle  sweetness  of  deportment ! 
His  dignity  was  so  softened  by  meek  and  tender  feeling,  that 
his  disciples  approached  him  with  familiarity,  lived  with  him 
as  a  friend,  and  felt  no  pain  in  his  presence.  We  should 
have  expected  that  a  being  so  august,  and  whose  works  were 
so  wonderful,  would  have  struck  awe  into  men's  minds ;  but 
the  amiableness  of  Jesus  seems  to  have  triumphed  over  his 
greatness,  and  to  have  inspired  affection  even  stronger  than 
reverence.  We  see  this  illustrated  in  every  part  of  his  his- 
tory ;  in  John's  lying  on  his  bosom,  in  Mary's  anointing  his 
head,  and  in  the  deep  and  tender  grief  with  which  his  disci- 
ples after  his  death  came  to  embalm  his  remains.  When  I 
consider  this  conscious  superiority  of  Jesus,  I  cannot  express 
my  conception  of  the  strength  of  his  benevolence,  as  dis- 
played in  the  affectionate  familiarity  with  which  he  lived 
umong  men,  in  the  gentleness  and  condescension  of  his  man- 


58  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

ner,  in  his  hiding  his  majesty  behind  his  compassion.  It  is 
far  easier  to  scatter  blessings  than  to  stoop  to  the  low  and  to 
live  with  them  as  a  friend.  The  Son  of  God  walking  amidst 
the  band  of  his  disciples  as  an  equal,  sitting  at  their  table, 
inviting  to  it  the  publican-,  and  conversing  with  all  he  met  on 
the  highway  and  in  the  palace  with  like  sympathy  and  inter- 
est, displays  to  my  mind  a  charity  stronger  than  when  he 
employed  his  power  to  raise  the  dead.  In  every  act  and  re- 
lation of  common  life,  we  see  that  his  very  life  and  spirit  was 
benignity." 

1817.  Christ  a  mediator.  "The  sentiment  which  I 
wish  to  enforce  is  this,  —  that  Jesus  Christ  is  continually,  in 
all  ages,  in  all  times,  employed  and  interested  in  behalf  of  the 
human  race,  —  that  his  kindness  to  mankind  is  constantly 
operating,  —  that  he  bears  a  permanent  relation  to  them,  — 
that  he  never  ceases  to  do  good. 

"  It  is  to  be  feared  that  these  conceptions  are  not  suffi- 
ciently familiar.  Many,  when  they  think  of  Christ,  think  of 
him  only  or  chiefly  as  having  lived  several  ages  ago.  Their 
minds  travel  back  to  the  time  when  he  dwelt  on  earth. 
They  conceive  of  him  very  much  as  a  teacher  or  prophet 
who  brought  an  important  message  from  God,  and,  having 
declared  it,  died  in  attestation  of  it,  and  then  left  the  world  to 
enter  into  a  state  of  reward  and  rest.  Jesus  Christ  is  thus 
separated  from  us,  and  thrown  back  into  a  distant  antiquity. 
Without  being  distinctly  avowed,  this  is  with  many  the  most 
habitual  and  frequent  mode  of  regarding  Christ,  and  it  is 
one  cause  of  the  faint  interest  often  manifested  in  his  char- 
acter  

"  Such  a  view  of  Christ,  when  no  higher  views  are  con- 
nected with  it,  will  not  take  a  strong  hold  on  men  of  improv- 
ed and  cultivated  minds.  They  will  not  feel  that  their  obli- 
gations to  Christ  are  great,  when  he  is  regarded  only  as  a 
proplict  of  early  times ;  and  the  reason  is,  that,  from  their 


CHRIST    A    MEDIATOR.  59 

early  familiarity  with  the  leading  truths  of  his  gospel,  and 
from  their  habit  of  reasoning  about  these  trutlis,  they  come 
to  think  that  they  might  have  learned  these  without  his  aid. 
You  well  know  that  since  the  time  of  Jesus  the  human  mind 
has  been  much  employed  in  seeking  for  evidences  in  Nature, 
of  many  interesting  doctrines  which  he  taught.  The  conse- 
quence is,  that  a  system  of  Natural  Religion  has  been  con- 
structed. We  have  works  of  the  learned,  in  which  God's 
tnity  and  goodness,  and  a  future  state  of  retribution,  are  sup- 
ported, and,  we  are  sometimes  told,  are  demonstrated,  by 
proof  drawn  from  the  creation  and  providence.  Now  the  ef- 
fect of  this  mode  of  appeal  to  Nature  in  defence  of  these  truths 
is,  to  lead  men  to  the  notion  that  Nature  is  a  sufficient  wit- 
ness to  these  doctrines,  and  that  the  authority  of  Christ  may 
be  spared.  Jesus  seems  to  them  to  have  conferred  no  signal 
benefit  in  teaching  doctrines  which  are  written  on  every 
page  of  God's  works.  But  it  is  forgotten  that  it  is  by  the 
light  which  Christ  has  thrown  on  Natui-e  that  they  are  ena- 
bled to  read  it  with  so  much  ease.  It  is  forgotten  that  before 
his  time  philosophers  hesitated,  wavered,  doubted,  about  these 
simple  truths  of  religion,  as  they  are  now  termed.  It  is  for- 
gotten that  philosophy  had  not  taken  a  step  towards  subvert- 
ing idolatry. 

"  Hence  the  more  cultivated  become  insensible  to  their 
obligations  to  Christ,  when  viewed  as  a  mere  teacher  of  an 
early  age.  Hence  it  is  not  uncommon  to  hear  Nature  ar- 
rayed against  Christ,  to  hear  Nature  referred  to  as  a  higher 
authority  than  Christ,  to  see  his  instructions  virtually  set 
aside  when  they  do  not  correspond  with  what  is  asserted  to 
be  the  doctrine  of  Nature,  although  before  his  coming  she 
had  taught  so  little,  —  although  it  is  his  gospel  which  has  given 
her  a  tongue.  I  have  intended  by  these  remarks  to  show 
th;it  the  habit  of  thinking  of  Christ  merely  or  chiefly  as  a 
teacher  who  lived  several  ages  ago,  and  left  behind  him  an 
excellent  system  of  religious  truth,  is  not  suited  to  excite  a 


60  SPIRITUAL    GKOWTH. 

Strong  interest  in  him,  —  certainly  not  such  an  interest,  not 
such  a  sensibility,  as  pervades  the  New  Testament. 

"  I  would  now  obsei-ve  that  this  mode  of  viewing  Christ 
is  wrong,  defective,  inconsistent  with  the  plain  declaration 
of  the  Scriptures.  According  to  these,  Jesus  Christ  is  not 
a  teacher  whose  agency  was  chiefly  confined  to  the  time 
Avhen  he  was  on  earth.  He  ever  lives,  and  is  eve  active 
for  mankind.  He  sustains  other  offices  than  those  of  a 
teacher ;  he  is  Mediator,  Intercessor,  Lord,  and  Saviour. 
He  has  a  permanent  and  constant  connection  with  mankind, 
and  a  most  intimate  union  with  his  Church.  He  is  through 
all  time,  now  as  well  as  formerly,  the  active  and  efficient 
friend  of  the  human  race. 

"  When  Jesus  spoke  of  his  death,  he  never  spoke  of  it 
as  if  it  were  to  separate  him  from  the  concerns  of  our 
world,  as  if  he  were  to  rest  from  his  effijrts  for  mankmd. 
He  regarded  it  as  an  event  which  was  to  introduce  him  to 
a  nobler  and  wider  sphere  of  activity,  where  he  was  to  con- 
tribute more  extensively  to  the  conversion  and  salvation  of 
mankind.  'I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you.'  '  When  I  am 
lifted  up,'  that  is,  crucified,  '  I  will  draw  all  men  to  me.' 
After  his  resurrection,  he  did  not  speak  as  if  his  work  had 
been  finished  by  dying  and  rising  again.  He  says,  —  'All 
power  is  given  to  me  in  heaven  and  earth.  Lo  !  I  am  with 
you  to  the  end  of  the  world.' 

"  According  to  the  Scriptures,  Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  as 
a  reward  for  his  humiliation,  labor,  and  sufferings  for  man- 
kind, is  now  exalted  to  universal  empire.  Angels  an;  sub- 
jected to  him.  Nature  is  subjected  to  him.  He  is  present 
by  his  knowledge  and  power  with  his  Church.  He  never 
forgets  the  race  for  which  he  died.  He  intercedes  for  them. 
He  assists  them.  He  watches  over  the  interests  of  his  re- 
ligion. He  will  make  it  victorious.  According  to  the  Scrip- 
tures, the  time  is  coming  when  his  influence,  now  silent, 
will  be  conspicuous,  when  the  veil  behind  which  he  operates 


CIIRI^iT    A    MEDIATOR.  61 

will  be  withdrawn.  He  is  to  come  with  hosts  of  angels. 
He  is  to  raise  the  dead,  to  judge  the  world,  to  fulfil  the 
solemn  threatenings,  and  to  confer  the  everlasting  blessings 
of  his  gospel. 

"  This  connection  of  Jesus  Christ  with  the  human  race 
seems  to  me  very  clearly  unfolded  in  Scripture,  and  though 
it  is  astonishing  by  its  vastness,  yet  it  is  in  no  respect  in- 
credible. That  God  should  choose  to  save  and  bless  a  race 
of  beings  by  the  agency  of  an  illustrious  deliverer  is  only 
an  exemplification  of  that  system  which  is  established  in 
nature,  under  which  we  see  God  committing  the  preser- 
vation and  happiness  of  a  large  family  to  a  parent,  of  a 
large  kingdom  to  a  sovereign.  Connections  and  dependen- 
cies of  this  nature  are  peculiarly  adapted  to  call  forth  an 
exalted  benevolence,  and  the  strongest  and  best  affections 
of  the  soul.  God  might  have  raised  mankind  by  an  imme- 
diate act  of  power  from  sin  and  death.  But  it  is  more  con- 
sistent with  his  character  and  with  his  usual  modes  of  oper- 
ation to  assign  this  work  to  an  exalted  being  capable  of 
accomplishing  it,  and  to  place  this  being  in  the  most  inter- 
esting relations  to  our  world. 

"  Is  it  now  asked,  '  Why  are  these  views  important .'' '  I 
answer,  they  give  a  new  complexion  to  the  mind  which 
truly  imbibes  them.  They  are  not  mere  speculative  prin- 
ciples. They  are  suited  to  move  and  actuate  the  soul  to  its 
centre,  to  have  a  powerful  operation  on  the  affections  and 
the  life,  and  therefore  they  should  often  be  revolved.  The 
heart  which  is  truly  imbued  with  them  rises  to  Christ  with 
a  grateful  and  affectionate  veneration  which  is  felt  for  no 
earthly  friend.  There  is  something  peculiarly  affecting  in 
the  idea  of  a  love,  a  philanthropy,  living  and  operating 
through  ages,  and  looking  down  from  heaven  with  an  un- 
broken tenderness  on  a  race  like  ours 

"  I  close  with  observing  that  a  mind  conversant  with  these 
views  of  Christ  acquires  a  vigor  of  hope  and  a  fulness  of 

VOL.    II.  G 


62  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

joy  which  can  be  derived  from  no  other  source.  Our  hope 
of  the  heavenly  world,  is  nourished  by  no  views  so  effectu- 
ally as  by  these.  That  world,  so  pure,  so  distant,  so  un- 
seen, though  believed  by  us  to  exist,  is  not  easily  conceived 
of  as  designed  to  be  our  future  dwelling.  It  is  by  bringing 
it  home  to  the  heart,  that  Jesus  is  there,  that  Jesus  in  our 
nature  is  there,  that  he  is  there  as  a  friend,  and  forerunner, 
and  advocate,  —  it  is  by  cherishing  the^e  views  that  heaven 
is  brought  nigh  to  us,  that  hope  acquires  courage  and 
strength  to  ascend  to*  that  pure  and  eternal  state.  It  is  pos- 
sible, by  the  aid  which  these  views  of  Christ  can  give,  to 
obtain  a  conviction  of  the  future  glory  of  human  nature 
altogether  different  from  that  vague  and  cold  belief  which 
the  multitude  possess,  —  a  conviction  which  partakes  of  the 
vividness  of  immediate  perception." 

1816.  The  kingdom  of  heaven.  "  Christ  came  to  es- 
tablish an  empire  of  benevolence,  peace,  charity,  on  the 
ruins  of  malice,  war,  and  discord.  The  work  of  diffusing 
good-will  through  a  world  of  free  and  voluntary  agents 
must  of  necessity  be  gradual,  and,  like  all  the  great  pur- 
poses of  God,  must  advance  with  a  slow  and  silent  progress. 
But  this  work  has  been  in  a  degree  accomplished  by  Jesus  ; 
and  what  is  more,  there  is  a  very  remarkable  adaptation  in 
his  whole  character  to  this  office  of  spreading  peace  on 
earth,  —  such  an  adaptation  as  proves  him  to  be  the  pre 
dieted  Pacificator  of  the   World 

"  At  the  thought  of  this  reign  of  benevolence,  the  wholi 
earth  seems  to  me  to  burst  forth  into  rejoicing.  I  see  th« 
arts  and  civilization  spreading  gladness  over  deserted  re 
gions,  and  clothing  the  wilderness  with  beauty.  Natiom 
united  in  a  league  of  philanthropy  advance  with  constantly 
accelerating  steps  in  knowledge  and  power.  I  spe  stupen- 
dous plans  accomplished,  oceans  united,  distant  regions  con- 
nected, and  every  climate  contributing  its  productions  and 


DANGERS    OF    FREE    INSTITUTIONS.  63 

treasures  to  the  improvement  and  happiness  of  the  race. 
In  private  life,  I  see  every  labor  lightened  by  mutual  confi- 
dence and  aid.  Indigence  is  unknown.  Sickness  and  pain 
are  mitigated,  and  almost  disarmed,  by  the  d-feinterestedness 
of  those  who  suffer,  and  by  the  sympathy  which  suffering 
awakens.  Every  blessing  is  heightened  and  diffused  by 
participation.  Every  family,  united,  peaceful,  and  knowing 
no  contention  but  for  preeminence  in  doing  good,  is  a  con- 
secrated and  happy  retreat,  the  image  of  heaven.  The 
necessary  ills  of  life  shrink  into  nothing.  The  human 
countenance  puts  on  a  new  and  brighter  expression.  Hu- 
man nature  with  its  selfishness  loses  its  base  deformity,  and 
is  clothed  with  the  glory  of  God,  whose  designs  it  embraces, 
with  whose  spirit  it  is  imbued. 

"  Let  us,  then,  welcome  Jesus,  the  Prince  i)f  Peace,  who 
came  with  this  spirit  from  heaven.  Let  us  welcome  Jesus, 
whose  gospel  has  already  obtained  so  many  conquests  over 
selfishness  and  malignity,  and  brought  to  reign  in  so  many 
hearts  the  principle  of  charity." 

SECTION    FOURTH. 
SOCIETY. 

1814.  Dangers  of  free  institutions.  "  One  of  the 
great  benefits  of  a  republican  government  is,  that  it  admits 
the  elevation  of  the  best  men  to  power.  In  hereditary  o-ov- 
ernments,  the  people  have  no  pledge  that  the  crown  will 
not  be  worn  by  the  worst  and  weakest  men  in  society. 
But  '  a  republic,'  we  are  told,  '  opens  wide  tlie  door  of  honor 
and  office  _  to  merit,  —  no  artificial  distinctions  are  there 
employed  to  depress  virtue  and  wisdom,  and  superior  talent 
has  at  once  the  means  of  development  and  reward.  How 
great,  then,  is  the  prospect  that  in  a  republic  the  power  of 
the  state  will  be  confided  to  the  wise  and  good ! ' 

"The  privilege  of  electing  rulers   is   indeed    invaluable; 


64  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

but  who  does  not  see,  in  a  moment,  thai  tliis  privilege  wil 
be  a  blessing  or  a  curse,  according  to  the  character  of  the 
community  ?  Let  a  people  be  corrupt,  and  who  will  be 
their  favorite, —  the  uncorrupted  patriot,  the  man  of  inflexible 
principle,  too  upright  to  flatter  bad  passions  and  to  prom- 
ise subservience  to  unworthy  views,  or  the  subtle,  specious 
demagogue,  who  pants  for  power,  and  disdains  no  art  by 
which  it  may  be  acquired  ?  Bad  men,  of  all  others,  are 
most  greedy  of  political  power,  for  they  see  m  power  not 
only  the  gratification  of  ambition,  but  food  for  their  avarice, 
and  all  their  passions  ;  and  in  a  corrupt  state  of  the  com- 
munity, what  can  preserve  the  reins  of  government  from 
their  unholy  grasp  ?  Depraved  themselves,  they  understand 
the  depraved  feelings  of  others,  and  can  bend  every  popular 
passion  to  their  service.  To  the  mercenary  they  exhibit  the 
allurements  of  ofl[ice;  to  the  envious  they  promise  a  triumph 
over  their  superiors ;  to  the  discontented  and  restless  a  re- 
moval of  fancied  or  exaggerated  grievances.  A  corrupt 
slate  of  society  is  the  very  element  for  the  artful  and  as- 
piring. Unfettered  by  principle  and  inflamed  by  the  pros- 
pect of  success,  they  pursue  power  with  an  energy  which 
no  labor  can  exhaust,  no  disappointment  repress,  and  on 
which  better  men  look  with  astonishment.  Better  men  arc 
too  much  inclined  to  shrink  in  despair  from  a  conflict  with 
these  unscrupulous  spirits.  They  cannot  stoop,  tliey  say, 
to  artifice  and  falsehood.  They  cannot  purchase  ofiice  by 
the  sacrifice  of  uprightness,  by  communion  with  the  worst 
members  and  worst  feelings  of  society.  What  have  they, 
then,  to  hope  from  this  desperate  struggle  with  the  depraved, 
but  envenomed  and  unceasing  abuse,  and  a  final  defeat, 
more  fatal  the  longer  it  has  been  deferred  ?  Such  reflec- 
tions too  often  paralyze  the  efforts  of  tie  wise  and  ui)right, 
and  the  place  of  honor  which  is  their  due  is  usurped  by  the 
unworthy. 

"Is  it  said,  that,  under  free  institutions  of  society,  men  of 


DANGERS    OF    FREE    IXSTITUTIONS.  65 

talents,  if  not  of  virtue,  will  rise,  —  that  a  republican  country 
will  at  least  escape  a  government  contemptible  by  its  folly 
and  weakness  ?  Yes  !  men  of  talent  will  rise  ;  but  they 
may  be  those  who  have  a  talent  to  wield  a  mob,  i^lher  than  to 
govern  a  state,  —  to  build  up  a  party,  rather  than  to  strength- 
en the  foundations  of  national  greatness  ;  it  may  be  cunning, 
not  wisdom,  the  power  of  managing  vulgar  passions,  which 
men  of  vulgar  minds  often  possess  in  the  highest  degree, 
that  will  triumph.  In  some  corrupt  states  of  society,  not 
even  this  miserable  talent  will  be  requisite  to  obtain  pro- 
motion. Let  a  people  yield  themselves  to  their  passions, 
and  especially  to  envy,  the  besetting  sin  of  republics,  and 
they  will  sometimes  advance  men  of  gross  and  narrow 
minds,  in  preference  to  men  of  distinguished  ability,  for  the 
very  purpose  of  humbling  their  superiors.  In  a  republic, 
eminence  in  talent  is  sometimes  a  crime,  and  rude  and 
clamorous  ignorance  may  be  raised  above  it.  From  these 
causes  it  may  happen  again,  as  it  has  happened  before,  that 
the  rulers  of  a  republic  will  be  more  weak  and  wicked  than 
the  spoilt  child  of  royalty.  Of  what  use,  then,  is  the  privi- 
lege of  electing  rulers  to  a  depraved  people  ? 

"  These  remarks  naturally  lead  to  the  consideration  of 
another  advantage  peculiar  to  republican  institutions,  —  I 
mean,  the  power  they  confer  of  removing  without  violence 
rulers  who  abuse  their  trust.  This  is  indeed  a  great  privi- 
lege ;  but  again  I  say  that  its  benefits  depend  on  the  char- 
acter of  the  community.  Let  bad  men  rise  to  power  by 
flattering  the  passions  of  a  depraved  people,  and  how  are 
they  to  be  displaced,  except  by  the  arts  of  men  more  subtle 
than  themselves  ?  The  influence  which  their  elevation  gives 
is  all  directed  to  perpetuate  their  sway.  They  wield  the 
power  of  the  state  for  the  great  and  almost  exclusive  pur- 
pose of  strengthening  the  party  to  which  they  owe  theli 
greatness.  For  this  end  patronage  and  oflice  are  employed 
to  reward  past  services,  and  to  attract  new  adherents  from 
6* 


66  SriRITUAL    GKOWTH. 

the  ranks  of  their  opponents.  Venal  presses  are  kept  in 
perpetual  action  to  increase  the  perversity  of  pubhc  senti- 
ment, and  especially  to  feed  the  spirit  of  party.  There  is 
no  passion  in  our  nature  more  headstrong,  unrelenting,  un- 
bending, and  unwilling  to  be  convinced,  than  party  spirit, 
and  on  this  the  artful  and  aspiring  chiefly  rely  for  the  pres- 
ervation of  their  power.  Let  this  be  kindled,  and  a  corrupt 
administration  has  little  to  fear.  To  the  thorough  partisan 
no  conduct  of  his  leaders  gives  offence.  His  conscience  is 
in  their  keeping.  Self-will,  pride,  malignity,  prompt  him  to 
uphold  their  worst  measures.  He  would  rather  see  the  re- 
public perish  by  their  crimes,  than  owe  its  safety  to  the  vir- 
tues and  elevation  of  their  opponents.  I  need  not  tell  you 
that  a  corrupt  republic  is  the  very  soil  for  party  spirit. 
Here  it  grows  without  culture,  and  shoots  up  into  deadly 
luxuriance,  even  when  left  to  its  native  vigor.  Let  its 
growth  be  aided  by  human  art,  and  it  overspreads  the  fairest 
plants  of  social  life,  and  darkens  a  nation  with  its  poisonous 
branches.  With  these  means  of  support,  bad  rulers  have 
nothing  to  fear. 

"  Especially  if  the  republic  be  extensive,  as  well  as  cor- 
rupt, is  the  prospect  of  removing  from  power  those  who 
abuse  it  almost  sure  of  disappointment.  The  rulers  of  such 
a  community,  seated  as  they  are  in  the  centre,  sending  forth 
their  patronage  to  the  remotest  extremities,  and  guiding  to 
one  end  the  exertions  of  their  supporters,  have  every  advan- 
tage for  perpetuating  their  power.  Their  opponents,  scat- 
tered over  a  wide  extent  of  country,  having  different  inter- 
ests, wanting  bonds  of  union,  offer  a  divided  and  feeble 
resistance.  They  complain  of  the  oppression  under  which 
the  nation  groans;  but  the  credulous  and  malignant  spirit 
of  party  is  instructed  to  lay  to  their  charge  the  very  evila 
which  they  are  struggling  to  avert,  and  a  guilty  adminis- 
tration contrives  to  direct  upon  their  heads  the  indignation 
which  its  own  crimes  and  follies  iiave  awakened.     Tiius  we 


JUSTICE    TO    THE    POOR.  67 

see  how  little  benefit  is  to  be  expected  in  a  corrupt  republic 
from  the  power  of  removing  unfaithful  rulers." 

1817.  Justice  to  the  poor.  "For  what  ei!tl  are  civil 
society,  government,  and  property  instituted  .''  Not  to  build 
up  a  favored  few,  but  for  the  general  toelfare  of  mankind. 
No  valid  reason,  no  justification,  can  be  offered  for  the 
present  order  of  things,  for  the  division  of  the  earth  into  dis- 
tinct possessions,  for  the  great  inequalities  of  property  which 
exist,  but  this,  that  the  improvement  and  happiness  of  men 
in  general  are  protected  by  these  establishments.  The  rich 
derive  their  title  to  their  wealth  from  this  consideration,  that 
the  general  welfare  is  advanced  by  the  institution  of  proper- 
ty. Society  was  not  instituted,  as  they  are  too  apt  to  think, 
for  them  alone  ;  but  they  belong  to  society.  The  true  end 
of  the  social  union  demands  that  they  live  for  the  general  as 
well  as  individual  good,  and  the  fact  that  they  derive  the 
highest  benefits  from  civil  institutions  imposes  on  them  a 
peculiar  obligation  to  promote  the  public  weal. 

"  Society  is  instituted  for  the  good  of  all  ranks  of  men. 
No  single  rank  is  made  merely  for  the  rest,  but  all  are  to 
exist  for  each  other.  It  is  a  sentiment,  abstractly  true, 
though  it  can  never  be  applied  to  practice,  that  a  man  for- 
feits his  right  to  property  just  as  far  as  he  fails  to  contribute 
according  to  his  ability  to  the  common  well-being.  He 
breaks,  in  so  doing,  the  tacit  compact  which  every  man  is 
supposed  to  make  who  becomes  or  remains  a  member  of 
society.  According  to  these  principles,  there  is  a  moral 
obligation  on  the  rich  to  benefit  the  other  ranks  of  society. 
This  they  necessarily  do,  in  a  measure,  by  employing  the 
poor  and  recompensing  them  for  their  labor.  Such  service 
is  a  very  important  one.  But  when  we  consider  their  abili- 
ty, and  consider,  too,  the  immense  benefits  which  they  re- 
ceive from  the  labors  of  the  poorer  classes,  they  surely 
ought  not  to  restrict  their  aid  to  this  limit 


68  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

"  The  present  state  of  the  world  seems  to  me  to  demand 
of  the  rich  a  pecuhar  regard  to  the  poorer  orders  of  society. 
The  time  has  come,  when  the  security  of  civil  institutions 
depends  in  no  small  degree  on  the  prevalence  of  a  convic- 
tion among  the  mass  of  the  people,  that  these  institutions  are 
beneficial,  that  property  with  all  its  inequalities  is  a  useful 
establishment,  and  that  the  rich  are  their  benefactors  and 
friends.  Human  nature  is  not  formed  to  look  patiently  or 
superiors.  A  spirit  of  discontent  generally  lurks  in  the 
breasts  of  those  to  whom  the  humble  offices  of  life  are  as- 
signed. This  spirit  is  at  this  moment  peculiarly  excited,  and 
it  is  to  be  counteracted  only  by  the  difiusion  of  good  princi- 
ples through  the  great  mass  of  society,  and  by  a  deportment 
in  the  rich  which  will  engage  the  confidence  of  the  poor. 

"  It  has  long  been  the  tendency  of  things  to  increase  the 
power  of  the  middling  and  pooi'er  classes  of  society.  We 
must  not  apply  to  the  present  state  of  the  world  the  maxims 
which  were  suited  to  darker  ages  and  despotic  governments. 
In  such  ages,  and  under  such  govei'nments,  the  poor  were 
spurned,  and  no  revolt  followed,  because  their  spirit  w^as 
broken,  and  they  were  reduced  to  a  brutal  ignorance.  But 
the  case  is  different  in  this  and  many  other  nations.  Since 
the  Reformation  and  the  revival  of  learning,  a  new  light  has 
broken  on  Protestant  countries,  a  light  almost  as  difilisive  as 
the  sunbeams  which  enter  at  once  the  narrow  window  of 
the  poor  man  and  the  broad  one  of  his  rich  neighbour.  A 
degree  of  knowledge  and  of  mental  activity  unknown  before 
has  been  communicated  to  the  poorer  classes  of  society.  It 
is  too  late,  even  if  it  were  desirable,  to  keep  them  in  igno- 
rance. The  spirit  of  the  age  is  too  active  and  free,  to  suflcr 
the  chains  to  be  fastened  on  their  minds.  They  already 
know  many  things,  and  among  other  lessons  they  have 
learned  their  own  weight,  in  society 

"  The  consequence  of  the  progress  of  knowledge  and  of 
all  improvements  in  these  later  ages  undoubtedly  lias  been 


EDUCATION    OF    T51E    POOR.  69 

to  aniuse  a  restless  and  revolutionary  spirit  ib.rough  society. 
This  spirit  is  not  to  be  condemned,  as  if  it  were  altogether 
evil.  Whilst  it  is  in  part  quickened  by  bad  passions,  it  is  in 
part  the  natural  and  proper  movement  of  the  minci"in  pursuit 
of  a  better  state  of  things.  It  is  traced  up  to  the  fact  that  the 
human  mind  has  outgrown  old  institutions.  It  is  an  impulse 
which  we  cannot  but  hope  is  to  result  in  a  Taore  just  and 
happy  social  order. 

"  But  still,  this  spirit  threatens  evil,  and  it  needs  to  be  reg- 
ulated and  checked  by  the  diffusion  of  sound  principles  of 
religion  and  morality.  We  must  not  imagine  that  this  revo- 
lutionary spirit  has  exhausted  itself.  Its  violence  has  been 
stayed  by  late  events.  But  events  cannot  withstand  the 
principles  of  human  nature,  and  the  powerful  causes  which 
are  now  exciting  the  activity  of  the  human  mind.  The 
press,  we  must  remember,  is  at  work,- — the  mightiest  engine 
ever  set  in  motion  by  man.  A  freer  intercourse,  a  more 
intimate  connection,  a  more  rapid  communication  of  thoughts 
and  feelings,  than  was  ever  known  before  subsists  between 
men  of  the  same  class,  and  between  different  classes  of 
society.  We  must  not  expect,  that  society,  under  these  in- 
fluences, is  to  return  to  its  former  state.  It  cannot  rest  as 
much  on  prejudice  as  it  has  done.  It  must  rest  more  on  re- 
flection and  on  principle.  In  this  country  in  particular,  where 
the  majority  govern,  \vhere  all  ranks  have  an  equal  agency 
in  the  election  of  rulers,  the  chief  support  of  social  order  is 
to  be  found,  not  in  an  outward  power  of  government,  but  in 
the  internal  conviction  and  moral  and  religious  sentiments 
of  the  community.  Never  did  such  strong  motives,  even  of 
a  worldly  nature,  exist  as  among  ourselves,  for  the  improve- 
ment of  the  poorer  classes  of  society." 

1817.  Address  before  the  association  for  the  edu- 
cation OF  indigent  boys.  "  The  strongest  argument  for 
education  is  found  in  the  nobleness  of  the  human  faculties, 


70  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

and  \he  poor  bring  with  them  into  being  the  same  faculties 
with  the  opulent.  Nature  knows  none  of  our  arbitrary  dis- 
tinctions. The  child  in  the  humblest  walks  of  life  is  as  richly 
gifted,  as  largely  endowed,  as  in  the  highest.  He  has  with- 
in the  same  inexhaustible  mine  of  power  and  affection,  the 
same  resources  of  heart  and  intellect.  A  flame  is  kindled  in 
his  breast  which  is  never  to  die.  Such  a  being  is  not  to  be 
viewed  as  an  inferior  animal,  or  as  important  only  because  he 
can  perform  certain  labors  for  the  community.  He  is  valua- 
ble when  considered  as  an  individual,  as  well  as  when  con- 
sidered in  relation  to  society.  He  has  a  nature  which  for  its 
own  sake  deserves  to  be  developed,  and  which  God  gave  for 
the  very  end  that  it  should  be  improved. 

"  Among  the  poor  are  not  only  all  the  essential  qualities 
of  mind  and  capacities  of  improvement  which  belong  to  all 
men,  but  all  the  varieties  of  intellect  which  are  found  in  other 
ranks  of  life.  It  is,  I  believe,  a  fact,  that  a  large  proportion 
of  that  heaven-inspired  energy  which  is  ordinarily  called 
genius,  and  which  has  done  so  much  to  advance  the  human 
mind,  to  open  new  regions  .of  thought  and  action,  and  to  give 
a  new  impulse  to  society,  has  been  furnished  by  the  inferior 
orders  of  society.  There  is  the  same  chance,  to  speak  in 
human  language,  that  the  sublime  faculties  of  a  Locke  and 
Newton  are  wrapped  up  in  the  child  of  the  poor  man  as  in 
the  titled  descendant  of  nobles.  As  many  great  minds  have 
dawned  in  hovels  as  in  palaces.  And  the  poor  have  not 
only  their  proportion  of  superior  intellect,  but  they  carry 
within  them  seeds  of  the  highest  and  noblest  virtues,  of 
capacities  of  elevated  devotion,  of  disinterestedness,  of  hero- 
ism, of  those  properties  which  raise  our  nature  from  the  dust 
and  mark  out  its  immortal  destiny.  The  possession  of  such 
a  nature  as  this  by  the  poor  is  certainly  an  unanswerable 
argument  for  opening  to  them,  as  far  as  possible,  all  those 
advantages  which  call  forth  the  mind  and  heart,  which  give 
elevation  of  character,  and  render  the  whole  of  life  a  state 
of  improvement. 


EDUCATION    OF    THE    POOR.  71 

*'  It  will  probably  be  replied  to  these  remarks,  that  it  is 
impossible  to  give  to  the  poor  great  advantages,  that  their 
condition  excludes  them  from  the  acquisition  of  various 
knowledge,  and  that  Providence  has  thus  forbitlden  the  at- 
tempt to  bestow  upon  them  an  education  proportioned  to 
their  faculties.     But  this  objection,  I  think,  is  founded  in  a 

wrong  view  of  the  nature  and  design  of  education 

The  great  object  of  education  is,  not  to  store  the  mind  with 
knowledge,  but  to  give  activity  and  vigor  to  its  powers,  to 
assist  it  in  thinking  and  inventing,  in  comparing,  discriminat- 
ing, and  combining.  The  sum  of  knowledge  which  schools 
and  even  universities  communicate  is  inconsiderable.  It 
bears  a  small  proportion  to  what  we  derive  from  other 
sources,  and  from  sources  which  are  open  to  every  mind. 
Our  principal  volumes  are  nature,  experience,  and  society. 
Education  is  of  use  chiefly  as  it  helps  us  to  read  these 
volumes,  as  it  gives  us  the  habits  of  patient  attention,  of  obser- 
vation, of  accurate  judgment,  and  of  vigorous  thought 

"  The  remarks  now  made  will,  I  hope,  remove  the  objec- 
tion to  the  instruction  of  the  poor,  that  their  condition  forbids 
them  to  be  learned.  We  do  not  wish  them  to  be  learned, 
nor  is  this  the  great  end  of  education.  We  wish  to  train 
their  faculties  ;  and  this  may  be  effected  for  the  poor,  as  well 
as  for  other  orders  of  society.  It  will,  however,  be  the  effect 
of  a  general  education  of  the  poor,  to  awaken  and  disclose 
minds  of  a  high  order,  formed  for  learning,  research,  and 
contemplation,  which,  without  this  aid,  would  have  slumber- 
ed in  obscurity.  This,  though  not  the  greatest,  is  one  great 
advantage  of  extending  the  best  opportunities  in  our  power 
to  the  poonir  classes  of  society.  In  those  classes  are  scat- 
tered those  noblest  works  of  God,  superior  minds,  minds 
which  ask  nothing  but  a  field  for  action,  which  need  only  to 
be  relieved  from  the  oppression  of  want,  which  can  mount 
by  their  own  native  energy,  which  are  formed  to  look  on 
nature  with  a  fresh  eye,  to  investigate  new  truth,  to  explore 


72  SI'IRITUAL    GROWTH. 

worlds  of  thought  now  undiscovered,  to  awaken  by  eloquence 
or  poetry  a  higher  life  and  feeling  in  the  human  breast. 
Great  minds  are  the  glory  of  their  race,  the  instruments  em- 
ployed by  Providence  in  improving  mankind  and  in  kindling 
and  elevating  their  less  favored  brethren  ;  and  society  has  an 
interest  in  their  development,  wherever  they  exist.  Justice 
to  such  minds  is  one  benefit  of  a  general  education  of  the 
poor.  Powerful  as  native  genius  is,  it  requires  some  aid. 
The  most  vigorous  seed  will  perish  without  light  and  moist- 
ure, and  the  instruction  of  the  poor  affords  to  superior  minds 
the  necessary  aid. 

"  Should  the  history  of  the  world  be  traced,  I  believe  it 
will  be  found,  as  I  have  said  before,  that  society  has  derived 
a  considerable  proportion  of  its  best  materials  —  I  mean 
superior  minds  —  from  tne  inferior  classes  of  society,  wher- 
ever these  classes  have  enjoyed  the  advantages  which  are 
their  due.  The  higher  classes  of  society  have  a  tendency 
to  intellectual  imbecility,  and  need  to  be  replenished  from 
the  lower.  The  looser  relations  of  the  poor  are  more  favor- 
able to  native  vigor,  originality,  freshness  of  thought,  where 
real  genius  is  possessed  ;  and  from  all  this  it  follows,  that  the 
intellectual  progress  of  a  community,  its  mental  activity,  its 
energy  of  thought  and  action,  will  be  promoted  by  extending 
to  all  classes  the  means  of  education,  by  giving  eveiywhere 
to  superior  minds  the  opportunity  of  emerging  and  of  lend- 
ing their  impulse  to  society 

"That  the  development  of  intellect  should  have  a  ten- 
dency to  injure  the  character  of  the  poor,  and  to  render  them 
bad  members  of  society,  seems  to  be  a  reflection  on  the 
wisdom  and  goodness  of  the  Creator,  who  must  have  consti- 
tuted human  nature  with  a  singular  want  of  skill,  if  its  best 
faculties  cannot  safely  be  unfolded.  I  am  persuaded,  too, 
that  this  sentiment  is  at  war  with  the  history  of  the  progress 
of  society,  which  teaches  us  that  there  is  a  close  connection 
between  our  intellectual  and  moral  powers,  and  that  knowl- 


EDUCATION    OF    THE    POOR.  73 

edge  is  friendly  to  virtue.  Tlie  idea,  that  a  large  part  of 
mankind  must  be  kept  in  a  state  of  brutal  ignorance  and 
degradation,  and  be  sacrificed,  as  far  as  their  higher  powers 
are  concerned,  to  the  welfare  of  society,  shocks  our  best 
feelings,  and  those  feelings  will  generally  be  found  in  alli- 
ance with  truth. 

"  It  may  be  admitted  that  the  education  of  the  poor  will 
give  them  a  desire  to  better  their  condition,  and  that  this 
desire  may  sometimes  be  impatient,  and  may  hurry  them 
into  crime.  But  what  then  ?  Does  not  this  desire  in  every 
class  of  society  often  break  out  into  the  same  excesses  .'' 
Shall  we,  therefore,  extinguish  it  ?  The  desire  of  rising, 
of  improving  our  condition,  is  a  radical  principle  of  our  na- 
ture, and  one  of  the  chief  sources  of  all  social  improve- 
ments. It  is  the  life  of  a  community,  and  without  it  a 
people  would  sink  into  torpidness,  sloth,  and  the  most  de- 
grading vices.  It  is  a  miserable  philosophy  which  would 
suppress  the  great  springs  of  action  in  the  human  breast, 
because  they  sometimes  act  with  a  dangerous  power. 

"  That  men  will  labor  less  because  improved  in  under- 
standing seems  to  me  to  be  an  equally  erroneous  notion. 
The  great  motives  to  steady  labor  lie  in  a  perception  of  the 
future  consequences  of  actions,  and  require  a  mind  of  some 
comprehension,  foresight,  and  calculation  to  feel  their  force  ; 
and  hence  we  may  expect  the  steadiest  labor  from  men 
whose  faculties  have  been  enlarged  by  education.  That 
this  is  precisely  the  fact,  history  and  observation  prove. 
Slaves  and  savages,  who  receive  no  education,  are  prover- 
bially indolent.  The  hardest  laborers  in  this  country  are  the 
husbandmen  of  New  England,  —  a  class  of  men  who  have 
been  formed  under  institutions  peculiarly  fitted  to  expand 
and  invigorate  the  understanding 

"  Of  all  our  benevolent  institutions,  those  which  regard 
children  seem  to  me  to  hold  the  first  rank.  Let  charity, 
indeed,  extend  itself  with  a  divine  activity  to  all  the  varie- 

VOL.    II.  7 


74  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

ties  of  human  want;  let  it  multiply  its  fojms  of  action  in 
proportion  to  the  forms  of  guilt  and  suffering ;  let  its  chan 
nels  be  everywhere  widened  and  deepened ;  let  it  erect 
hospitals,  establish  dispensaries  and  provident  institutions, 
watch  over  almshouses,  open  receptacles  for  the  reformation 
of  the  vicious,  and  administer  comfort  to  the  aged  and  dy- 
ing. The  aged  and  dying,  however,  will  soon  cease  to 
suffer  ;  their  journey  is  almost  finished  ;  and  the  poor  of 
middle  age  have  formed  characters  which  yield  slowly  and 
reluctantly  to  the  influence  of  any  means  of  improvement. 
But  the  child  has  just  begun  to  live,  with  a  mind  pliant  and 
tender,  with  habits  not  now  rigid  and  unyielding,  with  a 
heart  not  now  tainted  and  hardened,  yet  with  propensities 
which,  if  unchecked,  will  probably  issue  in  guilt  and  misery. 
Abandon  him  to  ignorance,  and  his  youth,  if  he  struggle 
through  its  hardships,  will   train  him  to  crimes  for  which 

society  has  reared  the  prison  and  the  gallows 

"  The  children  of  poor  families  too  often  inherit  the  vices 
and  miseries  of  their  parents.  Brought  up  in  filth,  seeing 
constantly  the  worst  examples,  hearing  licentious  and  pro- 
fane conversation,  abandoned  to  ignorance  and  idleness,  or, 
if  employed,  only  employed  to  beg  in  the  streets,  to  extort 
money  by  falsehoods,  to  practise  a  thousand  frauds,  —  from 
such  children  what  can  you  expect  but  lives  of  sloth  and 
guilt,  leading  to  poverty  more  abject,  if  possible,  than  that  to 
which  they  were  born  ?  This  is  the  most  affecting  circum- 
stance attending  poverty  produced  by  vice.  Who  can  think 
without  an  aching  heart  of  the  child  nursed  at  the  Ixeast 
of  an  intemperate  mother,  subjected  to  the  tyranny  and 
blows  of  an  irritable,  intoxicated  father,  and  at  length  cast 
out  upon  the  world  witliout  one  moral  or  religious  principle, 
or  one  honest  method  of  acquiring  subsistence  ?  Take  him 
under  your  protection,  nurture  his  tender  years,  and  you 
may  hope  to  form  him  to  intoUigcnce  and  industry  aiul  vir- 
tue, to  a  life  of  cheerful  and  useful  labor,  and  to  the  felici- 
ties of  a  better  world.     Do  not,  do  not  let  him  pcriau."' 


ALMS-GIVING.  75 

1819.  Our  duties  to  the  poor.  "  Formerly,  ihe  task 
of  a  Christian  minister  in  pleading  for  the  poor  was  com- 
paratively easy.  He  had  the  plain  precepts  of  his  Master 
to  support  him,  and  he  found  in  men's  breasts  instinctive 
principles  and  sympathies  vi^hich  responded  to  these  precepts. 
Of  late,  however,  we  have  had  abundant  discussions  and 
speculations  on  the  causes  and  remedies  of  poverty,  which, 
however  well  designed,  have  tended  to  shake  men's  sense 
of  obligation  to  relieve  their  poor  brethren,  and  have  given 
pretexts  to  the  selfish  and  avaricious  for  shutting  their  hearts 
and  hands.  We  have  been  told  that  poverty  grows  by 
charity,  that  the  prospect  of  relief  begets  improvidence,  that 
our  giving  bribes  men  to  forsake  labor,  that  the  way  to 
check  beggaiy  is  to  make  it  an  intolerable  condition  ;  — 
from  all  which  the  inference  seems  natural,  that  the  less  we 
give,  the  better.  If  this  doctrine  has  not  been  set  forth  in  so 
many  words,  yet,  I  think,  there  has  been  an  approach  to  it, 
so  that  giving  to  the  poor  is  by  some  thought  a  less  binding 
duty  than  formerly. 

"  I  mean  not  to  deny  that  much  useful  truth  has  been 
brought  before  the  public  by  the  late  discussions  on  the  sub- 
ject of  poverty.  I  am  far  from  denying  that  injudicious, 
indiscriminate  charity  has  swelled  the  evil  which  it  hoped 
to  alleviate.  The  Christian  precept,  to  '  give  alms,'  has 
sometimes  done  injury,  and  chiefly  because  it  has  not  been 
limited,  as  it  should  be,  by  another  precept,  namely,  '  He 
that  will  not  work,  neither  shall  he  eat,'  that  is,  be  supported 
by  charity.  In  the  Dark  Ages,  alms-giving  was  thought  an 
expiation  for  sin  and  a  passport  to  heaven.  The  dying  left 
legacies  to  convents  to  be  doled  out  to  daily  mendicants 
without  regard  to  their  character  or  state,  so  that  society 
lost  the  labor  of  many  of  its  strongest  and  healthiest  mem- 
bei-s.  And  this  evil  has  not  been  confined  to  the  Catholics. 
Protestant  sloth  has  been  as  injurious  as  Romish  superstition. 
Too  many  among  us  give  from  a  vague  sense  of  duty,  but 


re 


SPIRITUAL    'JROWTH. 


forget  the  obligation  of  giving  vigilantly,  carefully,  in  the 
manner  most  suited  to  do  good.  It  is  easier  to  give  money 
than  time  and  personal  attention.  Hence  charity  nourishes 
idleness  instead  of  solacing  want,  and  is  a  bounty  on  im- 
providence. Alms-giving,  I  freely  allow,  has  caused  much 
(.  vil.  I  am  also  prepared  to  go  farther  and  say,  that,  let  us 
g've  ever  so  judiciously,  we  shall  occasionally  do  evil,  as 
•well  as  good.  The  objections  made  to  the  most  cautious 
charity  are  not  wholly  without  foundation.  But  this  is  no 
reason  for  ceasing  to  give.  In  making  these  admissions,  we 
are  only  saying  that  charity  partakes  of  the  imperfection  of 
all  human  things.  The  truth  is,  we  seldom  or  never  receive 
or  communicate  an  unmixed  good.  Every  vii.ue  produces 
occasional  evil. 

"  It  is  sometimes  objected  to  alms-giving,  as  I  have  inti- 
mated, that  to  prevent  poverty  is  better  than  to  relieve  it : 
and  that  there  is  but  one  way  of  prevention,  which  is,  to 
take  from  men  all  expectation  of  relief  if  they  become 
poor.  They  will  then,  it  is  thought,  have  motives  which 
can  hardly  fail  to  keep  them  from  want.  But,  unluckily  for 
such  reasoning,  there  is  one  way  only  of  Cutting  off  this 
expectation,  and  God  forbid  that  we  should  ever  resort  to  it. 
That  only  way  is,  to  drive  all  human  feeling  from  our 
breasts ;  for  as  long  as  any  kindness  exists  in  a  com- 
munity, so  long  there  will  be  resources  open  to  the  poor, 
let  their  poverty  come  how  it  may,  and  so  long  relief  will 
be  expected  by  the  improvident.  I  repeat  it,  there  is  but 
one  way  of  suppressing  this  hope  of  relief.  We  must  cast 
from  us  all  kind  feeling.  We  must  turn  our  hearts  to  stone. 
We  must  bring  ourselves  to  see  unmoved  the  beggar  die  at 
our  doors.  We  must  make  up  our  minds  sternly,  inflexibl}', 
to  give  nothing,  let  misery  assail  us  with  ever  so  piercing  a 
cry,  with  ever  so  haggard,  and  worn,  and  famished  a  look  ; 
for  nothing  but  tliis  will  prevent  the  improper  dependence 
which  is  said  to  generate  poverty.     Let  an}^  sympathy  sur- 


PREVENTION    OF    POVERTY.  77 

Vive,  and  it  will  act  and  be  a  hope  to  the  improvident ;  and 
can  any  man  seriously  think  that  the  evils  of  this  hope  are 
so  great,  that  to  avoid  them  we  should  turn  ourselves  into 
brutes,  dry  up  the  fountains  of  humanity  ^rithin  us,  part 
with  all  that  is  tender  and  generous  in  our  nature  ?  I  am 
free  to  say  that  the  most  injudicious  alms-giving  is  an 
inhnitely  less  evil  to  society  than  this  extinction  of  sym- 
pathy. Better  multiply  beggars,  than  make  ourselves 
monsters.  Kind  affection  is  the  life  of  a  community,  and 
the  excesses  of  these  affections  are  to  be  chosen  before  a 
frozen  selfishness. 

"I  would  next  observe,  that  I  have  no  belief  in  the  effi- 
cacy  of  this  mode  of  preventing  poverty.     Let  men  know 
that  want  will  find  no  relief,  and  I  doubt  whether  it  will  be 
essentially   diminished;    for   human   nature    has  a  Strang 
power  of  shutting  its  eyes  on  consequences,  especially  in 
youth,  and   every  day's   observation    shows   us   multitudes 
giving  themselves  up,  through  the  power  of  the  passions,  to 
excesses,  pleasures,  which,  as  they  see  and  know,  have  re- 
duced  others  in  their  neighbourhood  and  families  to  penury 
disease,  and    even  premature  death.     Present  gratification 
often  outweighs  an  infinite  future  misery.     Men  are  not  to 
be  kept  from  poverty  by  being  taught  that  poverty  is  a  help- 
less  state,  an>  more  than  they  are  to  be  kept  from  crimes  by 
multiplication  of  capital    punishments.     The  laws  are  not 
found   to   be  most  efficacious  when  men   are  gibbeted   for 
every   offence,   and    facts  of  a  similar  nature  should  can- 
tion  us  against  attempts   to  meliorate  society  by  unmixed 
rigor. 

"Another  consideration  is  too  important  to  be  passed 
over.  Let  poverty  be  made  a  condition  in  which  no  relief 
IS  to  be  hoped,  which  is  to  be  given  up  to  unmixed  and  un- 
pitied  misery,  and  the  temptations  to  escape  it  by  fraud  and 
violence  will  be  irresistible.  No  man  will  be  poor  who  can 
find  his  way  to  his  neighbour's  coffers  ;  and  if,  after  all  hon. 


/O  SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 

est  exertions  for  s^lf-support,  a  man  should  be  reduced  to 
want,  I  am  not  prepared  to  judge  him  severely,  should  he, 
to  save  himself  from  starving,  make  a  prey  of  the  super- 
fluities of  the  rich. 

"  These  remarks  will  not,  I  hope,  be  misunderstood.  I 
am  not  pleading  for  injudicious  alms-giving.  It  is  a  great 
evil.  But  there  is  an  opposite  evil  which  I  think  greater, 
and  that  is,  making  use  of  the  bad  consequences  of  charity 
as  arguments  for  banishing  charity  from  society  ;  and  to 
this  point  many  late  speculations  on  poverty  have  seemed 
to  me  to  tend;  Christ's  precept  to  give  to  the  poor  is  not  a 
blemish  in  his  system,  but  an  important  and  noble  part  of  it. 
The  occasional  abuses  of  charity  are  not  to  discourage  us  in 
exercising  this  virtue.  We  must  feel,  however,  that  we  but 
half  do  this  duty  when  we  do  it  carelessly.  We  must  strive 
to  give  so  that  the  least  evil  and  the  greatest  good  may  re- 
sult from  our  beneficence 

"  Does  any  one  ask,  '  Why  shall  I  pity  and  help  the  poor 
man  .'  '  I  answer,  because  he  is  a  man  ;  because  poverty 
does  not  blot  out  his  humanity ;  because  he  has  your  nature, 
your  sensibilities,  your  wants,  your  fears  ;  because  the  winter 
wind  pierces  him,  and  hunger  gnaws  him,  and  disease  racks 
and  weakens  him,  as  truly  as  they  do  you.  Place  yourself, 
my  friend,  in  his  state ;  make  yourself,  by  a  strong  effort  of 
thought,  the  inhabitant  of  his  unfurnished  and  cold  abode, 
and  then  ask  why  you  should  help  him.  He  is  a  man, 
though  rags  cover  him,  though  his  unshorn  hair  may  cover 
his  human  features,  —  a  member  of  your  family,  a  child  of 
the  same  Father,  and,  what  is  most  important,  he  not  only 
has  your  wants  and  feelings,  but  shares  with  you  in  the 
highest  powers  and  hopes  of  human  nature.  He  is  a  mat 
in  the  noblest  sense,  created  in  God's  image,  with  a  mind  to 
think,  a  conscience  to  guide,  a  heart  which  may  grow  warm 
with  sentiments  as  pure  and  generous  as  your  own.  To 
Bome  this  may  seem  declamation.     There  are  some  who 


CHARITY    A    TEST    OF    KELIGION.  79 

seldom  think  of  or  value  man  as  man.  It  is  man  born  in  a 
particular  rank,  clad  by  the  hand  of  fashion  and  munificence, 
moving  in  a  certain  sphere,  whom  they  respect.  Poverty 
separates  a  fellow-being  from  them,  and  severs  the  golden 
chain  of  humanity.  But  this  is  a  gross  and  vulgar  way  of 
thinking,  and  religion  and  reason  cry  out  against  it.  The 
true  glory  of  man  is  something  deeper  and  more  real  than 
outward  condition.  A  human  being,  created  in  God's  image, 
and,  even  when  impoverished  by  vice,  retaining  power  es- 
sentially the  same  with  angels,  has  a  mysterious  importance, 
and  his  good,  where  it  can  be  promoted,  is  worthy  the  care 

of  the  proudest  of  his  race 

"  Next  to  the  great  doctrine  of  immortal  life,  we  may  say 
that  the  most  characteristic  element  of  our  religion  is  that  of 
UNIVERSAL  CHARITY.  And  the  doctrine  of  immortality  and 
the  duty  of  charity  are  not  so  separate  as  many  may  think ; 
for  love  or  benevolence  is  the  spirit  of  the  eternal  world,  the 
temper  which  is  to  make  us  blest  beyond  the  grave,  and  to 
give  us  hereafter  the  highest  enjoyment  of  the  character 
and  works  of  our  Creator.  There  is  another  view  by  which 
it  appears  that  the  Christian  doctrine  of  immortality  blends 
with  and  sustains  charity  ;  —  for,  according  to  this  doctrine, 
all  men  are  to  live  for  ever,  Christ  died  for  all,  all  are  essen- 
tially equal,  and  the  distinctions  of  their  lives  are  trifles. 
Thus  it  is  seen  that  the  poor  are  recommended  with  an  in- 
finite power  to  the  love  and  aid  of  their  brethren.  No  man 
can  read  the  New  Testament  honestly,  and  not  learn  to 
measure  his  religion  chiefly  by  his  benevolence.  If  the 
spiint,  and  example,  and  precepts  of  Jesus  Christ  have  not 
taught  us  to  love  our  fellow-creatures,  we  have  no  title  what- 
ever to  the  name  and  the  hope  of  Christians.  If  we  have 
not  learned  this  lesson,  we  have  learned  nothing  from  our 
Master.  About  other  things  Christians  may  dispute,  but 
here  there  can  be  no  controversy.     Charity  is  a  duty  placed 


80  SPIRITUAL    GKOV/TH. 

before  us  with  a  sunlike  brightness.  It  comes  to  us  from  the 
lips,  the  life,  the  cross,  of  our  Master  ;  and  if  charity  be  not 
in  us,  then  Christ  does  in  no  degree  live  within  us,  then  our 
profession  of  his  religion  is  a  mockery,  then  he  will  say  to 
us  in  the  last  day,  — '  I  was  hungry  and  ye  gave  me  no 
meat,  thirsty  and  ye  gave  me  no  drink.  I  know  you  not. 
Depart.' " 

1820.  The  glory  of  a  state.  "  It  is  plain,  that,  to 
promote  the  good  of  our  country,  we  must  know  what  that 
good  is,  and  as  misapprehensions  on  this  subject  have  done 
infinite  injury,  so  just  views  will  show  us  that  every  man  in 
every  class  may  contribute  to  it.  The  honor  and  happiness 
of  a  community  consist  not  so  much  in  the  ability  and  acts 
of  its  public  men,  as  in  the  character,  spirit,  and  condition 
of  its  citizens ;  and  whatever  or  whoever  advances  these 
builds  up  the  public  welfare. 

"  If  I  were  to  express  in  a  line  what  constitutes  the  glory 
of  a  state,  I  should  say,  il  is  the  free  and  full  development 
of  Human  Nature.  That  country  is  the  happiest  and 
noblest,  whose  institutions  and  circumstances  give  the  largest 
range  of  action  to  the  human  powers  and  affections,  and  call 
forth  man  in  all  the  variety  of  his  faculties  and  feelings. 
That  is  the  happiest  country,  where  there  is  most  intelli- 
gence and  freedom  of  thought,  most  affection  and  love,  most 
imagination  and  taste,  most  industry  and  enterprise,  most 
public  spirit,  most  domestic  virtue,  most  conscience,  most 
piety.  Wealth  is  a  good  only  as  it  is  the  production  and 
proof  of  the  vigorous  exercise  of  man's  powers,  and  is  a 
means  of  bringing  out  his  affections  and  enlarging  his  facul- 
ties. Man  is  the  only  glory  of  a  country,  and  it  is  the  ad- 
vancement and  unfolding  of  human  nature  which  is  the  true 
interest  of  a  state. 

"  If  this  be  true,  wc  learn  what  is  the  great  end  of  ge.v- 


THE    GLORY    OF    A    STAIE  81 

ernment,  the  highest  good  of  civil  polity.  It  is  liherly.  I 
am  almost  tempted  to  say  that  this  is  the  only  political  bless- 
ing, and  the  only  good  gift  which  law  and  order  can  confer 
on  a  country.  By  liberty  I  do  not  mean  what  aTiciently  bore 
the  name,  for  anciently  they  had  little  but  the  name.  I 
mean  the  protection  of  every  individual  in  his  rights,  and  an 
exemplion  from  >"  restraints  but  such  as  the  public  good  re- 
quin^s.  We  do  not  want  government  to  confer  on  us  posi- 
tive blessings,  but  simply  to  secure  to  us  the  unobstructed 
exercise  of  our  powers  in  working  out  blessings  for  ourselves. 
The  spring  of  happiness  is  in  man's  own  breast,  not  in  his 
government ;  and  the  best  office  of  government  is  to  remove 
obstructions  to  this  inexhaustible  energy  of  the  living  spirit 
within  us.  Liberty,  then,  is  the  greatest  political  blessing,  the 
distinction  of  a  well-governed  country.  It  is  a  good  which 
cannot  be  measured.  The  glory  of  a  country,  then,  consists 
in  the  free  character  of  its  institutions,  in  the  security  they 

give  to  every  man's  rights 

"  Every  man  may  promote  the  glory  of  his  country,  for 
every  man,  whatever  be  his  sphere,  may  put  forth  his 
powers  in  useful  pursuits,  and  express  and  give  some  exten- 
sion to  right  principles  and  virtuous  affections.  Let  none 
imagine  that  they  can  do  no  good  to  the  community  because 
they  are  in  private  stations.  The  error  has  always  been  to 
ascribe  to  public  men  and  public  institutions  an  undue  share 
in  the  prosperity  of  a  nation.  The  great  powers  in  the 
natural  world,  on  which  its  motion,  life,  beauty,  happiness, 
depend,  are  subtile,  and  everywhere  diffused  ;  and  so  the 
most  effectual  springs  of  a  nation's  felicity  are  very  dif- 
ferent from  the  cumbrous  machinery  which  works  at  the 
seat  of  government.  They  are  silent  as  the  principle  of  life 
in  the  animal  frame.  They  consist  in  what  we  call  the 
spirit,  of  a  people,  in  a  general  respect  for  rights,  which  is 
the  sole  foundation  of  civil  liberty,  in  industry,  temperance, 


82 


SPIRITUAL    GROWTH. 


intelligence,  humanity,  and  piety.  These  are  the  elements 
of  a  country's  life,  and  he  who  muUiplics  and  invigorates 
these  is  a  public  benefactor. 

"  The  sentiment,  that  a  country's  happiness  consists  chief- 
ly in  its  virtue,  is,  I  know,  a  trite  one  ;  but,  if  I  mistake 
not,  its  truth  is  at  this  moment  receiving  some  new  illustra- 
tions, and  the  time  seems  to  be  coming,  when  it  will  be  felt 
as  it  has  never  been  felt  before.  Whoever  looks  at  Europe 
will  see,  I  think,  that  a  new  spirit  has  gone  forth  among  the 
nations ;  that  the  human  mind  is  unusually  shaken  ;  that 
society  demands  some  new  organization,  and  that  new 
powers,  and  those  of  a  moral  nature,  must  be  set  at  work  to 
sustain  its  institutions.  The  old  methods  of  keeping  men  in 
order  —  I  mean  military  force,  state  religions,  and  the  show 
and  pomp  of  courts  —  have  lost  much  of  their  efficacy,  and 
lost  them  not  merely  through  temporary  causes,  but  through 
the  very  progress  of  the  human  mind.  There  is  an  ac- 
cumulation of  intelligence  and  energy,  a  consciousness  of 
power,  in  the  mass  of  the  people,  never  possessed  before  ; 
and  such  a  state  of  society  seems  to  me  to  demand  a  strong- 
er influence  and  wider  diffusion  of  moral  and  religious  prin- 
ciple than  formerly.  The  old  arts  of  restraining  a  people 
by  superstition  and  ignorance  will  no  longer  avail.  A 
purer  religion  and  a  purer  morality  must  take  their  place,  or 
the  prospects  of  the  world  are  dark  indeed.  Governments 
are  certainly  weakened ;  they  have  lost  in  an  unprecedented 
degree  the  confidence  of  the  governed  ;  the  people  are  more 
intelligent  and  combined  ;  and  unless  an  inward  principle  of 
order  be  substituted  for  outward  restraint,  unless  govern- 
ments reform  themselves  and  aid  in  reforming  society,  we 
may  find  that  we  have  but  entered  upon  the  horrors  of  the 
revolutionary  period.  These  speculations  may  be  founded 
on  imperfect  knowledge  of  the  state  of  the  world  ;  but  of 
one  great  principle  I  have  no  doubt,  that  we  are  passing 


THE    GLORY    OF    A    STATE.  83 

through  a  process  which  will  give  new  efficacy  to  the  con- 
viction, that  the  stability  of  governments  is  their  justice, 
and  that  the  prosperity  of  states  rests  on  moral  improve- 
ments, on  a  Pure,  Rational  Religion,  on  a  Spirit  of  Hu- 
manity, within  every  nation  of  Christendom,  and  toward  all 
mankind." 


CHAPTER  V. 

MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 
;et.  34-42.    1814-1822. 

W  E  have  traced  Mr.  Cbanning's  course  through  the 
irksome  years  of  the  Unitarian  controversy,  and  have 
watched  his  spiritual  growth,  as  manifested  in  the  ser- 
mons preached  to  his  people.  And  now  we  would  ob- 
serve him  in  his  social,  pastoral,  and  home  relations 
during  this  period  of  his  middle-age  ministry.  But  be- 
fore describing  this  portion  of  his  life,  it  may  serve  yet 
further  to  illustrate  his  character  as  a  controversialist  and 
a  theologian,  to  make  a  few  remarks,  which  are  naturally 
suggested  by  the  preceding  chapters. 

The  first  point  to  be  noticed,  and  it  is  an  important 
one,  is  that  it  was  his  sense  of  duty  to  the  cause  of 
Free  Inquiry,  endangered  as  he  thought  by  a  bigoted 
conservatism,  which  led  Mr.  Channing  into  controversy. 
The  individualizing  tendency  of  Protestantism  was  then, 
in  New  England  as  elsewhere,  swelling  like  the  waters 
of  a  freshet,  which  threaten  to  sweep  away  dikes  and 
cultivated  acres,  as  well  as  icy  fetters.  But  though  he 
saw  the  risks  to  which  Christendom  was  exposed  through 
the  rashness  produced  by  rationalism  in  the  self-willed 
and  superficial,  Mr.  Channing  at  once  recognized  that  it 
was  as  wrong  as  it  was  vain  to  attempt  to  dam  up  the 
liberal   spirit   which,  on  all  sides,  was  seeking  a  larger 


UNITY    IN    VARIETY.  85 

form  of  thought  and  hfe.  He  welcomed  the  spring- 
time, and  accepted'  cheerfully  the  inconveniences  of  a 
transition  age.  The  unity  in  uniformity^  enforced  by 
the  decrees  of  infaUible  councils  and  by  the  creeds  of 
Protestant  synods,  had  passed  for  ever  ;  and  in  the 
future  was  foreshadowed  a  unity  in  variety  arising  spon- 
taneously among  the  body  of  believers  bound  into  one 
by  the  consciousness  of  limitation  and  error,  the  desire 
of  concert  and  mutual  reverence.  He  rejoiced  to  think 
that  the  symbol  was  thus  to  give  place  to  the  reality, 
that  the  constrained  catholicity  of  a  dominant  clergy  was 
to  make  room  for  the  universal  communion  of  Christians 
filled  with  one  spirit  of  holy  love. 

Meanwhile,  a  period  was  to  be  passed  through  of 
sectarian  division,  wherein  each  party,  in  its  wish  to  be 
faithful  to  its  own  convictions,  would  be  tempted  to  treat 
rival  denominations  with  injustice.  This  era  of  debate 
he  saw  to  be  inevitable.  It  was  folly  to  fear  it.  It  was 
mere  waste  of  time  to  oppose  or  to  mourn  over  it.  Duty 
urged  him  to  follow  the  providential  leading,  with  confi- 
dence to  seek  clearer  views,  with  candor  to  listen  to  all 
who  uttered  their  sincere  opinions,  never  to  cover  up 
doubt  by  make-belief  or  half-belief,  without  dogmatism 
to  be  decided,  and  patiently  to  wait  for  the  time  when 
glimpses  should  be  enlarged  to  complete  vision.  As 
faith  ascends  into  knowledge,  it  becomes  ever  more  ap- 
parent that  according  to  Divine  design  the  multiplicity 
of  minds  is  a  means  of  harmony,  that  the  most  bitterly 
opposed  partisans  are  each  other's  necessary  comple- 
ments, and  that  the  Church  cannot  afibrd  to  spare  a  sin- 
gle sect  till  the  truth  which  it  embodies  has  attained  its 
rightful  place.  The  principle  by  which  Mr.  Channing 
was  governed  he  has  thus  distinctly  expressed,  and  the 

VOL.    II.  8 


86  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

passage  throws  much  light  upon  his  views  of  hh  own 
position  and  duties. 

"  It  is  due  to  myself  to  say,  that  the  controversial  charac- 
ter of  a  part  of  my  writings  is  to  be  ascribed,  not  to  the  love 
of  disputation,  but  to  the  circumstances  in  which  I  was  called 
to  write.  It  was  my  lot  to  enter  on  public  life  at  a  time 
when  this  part  of  the  country  was  visited  by  what  I  est':em 
one  of  its  sorest  scourges  ;  I  mean,  a  revival  of  the  spirit  of 
intolerance  and  persecution.  I  saw  the  commencement  of 
those  systematic  efforts,  which  have  been  since  developed, 
for  fastening  on  the  community  a  particular  creed.  Opinions 
which  I  thought  true  and  purifying  were  not  only  assailed 
as  errors,  but  branded  as  crimes.  Then  began  what  seems 
to  me  one  of  the  gross  immoralities  of  our  times,  the  prac- 
tice of  aspersing  the  characters  of  exemplary  men,  on  the 
ground  of  differences  of  opinion  as  to  the  most  mysterious 
articles  of  faith.  Then  began  those  assaults  on  freedom  of 
thought  and  speech,  which,  had  they  succeeded,  would  have 
-left  us  only  the  name  of  religious  liberty.  Then  it  grew 
perilous  to  search  the  Scriptures  for  ourselves,  and  to  speak 
freely  according  to  the  convictions  of  our  own  minds.  I 
saw  that  penalties,  as  serious  in  this  country  as  fine  and  im- 
prisonment, were,  if  possible,  to  be  attached  to  the  profession 
of  liberal  views  of  Christianity,  —  the  penalties  of  general 
hatred  and  scorn  ;  and  that  a  degrading  uniformity  of  opin- 
ion was  to  be  imposed  by  the  severest  persecution  which  the 
spirit  of  the  age  would  allow.  At  such  a  period,  I  dared 
not  be  silent.  To  oppose  what  I  deemed  error  was  to  me  a 
secondary  consideration.  My  first  duty,  as  I  believed,  was, 
to  maintain  practically  and  resolutely  the  rights  of  the  hu- 
man mind  ;  to  live  and  to  suffer,  if  to  suffer  were  necessary, 
for  that  intellectual  and  religious  liberty  which  I  prize  in- 
comparably more  than  my  civil  rights.  I  felt  myself  called, 
not  merely  to  plead  in  general  for  freedom  of  thought  and 


TREATMENT  OF  OPPONENTS.  87 

speech,  but,  what  was  more  important  and  trying,  to  assert 
this  freedom  by  action.  I  should  have  felt  myself  disloyal 
to  truth  and  freedom,  had  I  confined  myself  to  vague  com- 
monplaces about  our  rights,  and  forborne  to^ear  my  testi- 
mony expressly  and  specially  to  proscribed  and  persecuted 
opinions.  The  times  required  that  a  voice  of  strength  and 
courage  should  be  lifted  up,  and  I  rejoice  that  I  was  found 
among  those  by  whom  it  was  uttered  and  sent  far  and  wide. 
The  timid,  sensitive,  diffident,  and  doubting  needed  this 
voice  ;  and  without  it,  would  have  been  overborne  by  the 
clamor  of  intolerance.  If  in  any  respect  I  have  rendered  a 
service  to  humanity  and  religion,  which  may  deserve  to  be 
remembered  when  I  shall  be  taken  away,  it  is  in  this.  I 
believe,  that,  had  not  the  spirit  of  religious  tyranny  been 
met,  as  it  was,  by  unyielding  opposition  in  this  region,  it 
would  have  fastened  an  iron  yoke  on  the  necks  of  this 
people.  The  cause  of  religious  freedom  owes  its  present 
strength  to  nothing  so  much  as  to  the  constancy  and  reso- 
lution of  its  friends  in  this  quarter.  Here  its  chief  battle 
has  been  fought,  and  not  fought  in  vain.  The  spirit  of  in- 
tolerance is  not,  indeed,  crushed ;  but  its  tones  are  subdued, 
and  its  menaces  impotent,  compared  with  what  they  would 
have  been,  had  it  prospered  in  its  efforts  here."  * 

But  though  thus  ready  to  defend  freedom  of  con- 
science against  every  form  of  oppression,  however  plau- 
sible,  Mr.  Channing  entertained  no  personal  ill-will  to- 

*  Preface  to  Reviews,  Discourses,  and  Miscellanies,  1830.  —  Tlie 
statements  and  arguments  presented  on  the  Orthodox  side  may  be 
found  in  "  A  Letter  on  Religious  Liberty,  by  Moses  Stuart,  Profes- 
sor of  Sacred  Literature  in  the  Theological  Seminary,  Andovcr.'' 
Boston.  1830.  Professor  Stuart  therein  avers  that  the  accusations 
of  Dr.  Channing  are  "  not  troe,"  page  37.  This  Letter  was  replied 
to  in  "  Two  Letters  on  Religious  Liberty,  by  Bernard  Whitman." 
Boston.  1830.  The  reply  called  out  a  rejoinder  in  the  Spirit  of 
the  Pilgrims,  which  Mr.  Whitman  answered  in  a  "  Third  Letter." 


68  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

wards  those  whose  course  he  was  called  upon  to  resist. 
He  had  genuine  dignity,  indeed,  and  a  high  sense  of 
honor,  and  was  capable  of  feeling  deep  indignation  ;  but 
he  had  been  for  years  too  chastened  in  spirit  to  indulge 
anger  or  to  cherish  unkindness.  And  as  he  was  con- 
sidered by  some  of  his  Orthodox  adv^ersaries  to  have 
been  quite  too  stern  in  his  mode  of  conducting  contro- 
versy, it  is  but  right  to  mention  one  or  two  facts,  and  to 
give  some  extracts  from  his  correspondence,  which  may 
serve  to  set  forth  his  character  in  its  true  colors. 

In  relation  to  his  letters  to  Dr.  Worcester,  one  of  his 
brothers  thus  writes  :  —  "I  was  living  in  his  house  at 
this  period,  and  when  he  had  finished  the  letter,  he  read 

It  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  and  myself.     We  both  at  once- 

made  complaints  at  its  mildness,  and  insisted  that  it  had 
the  tone  of  a  timid  rnan  begging  for  mercy,  rather  tiian 
of  a  brave  one  who  was  supporting  a  righteous  cause. 
By  our  importunity  he  was  persuaded  to  modify  it.  He 
expressed  the  kindest  feelings,  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  unwilling  to  seem  lukewarm  in  what  he  regarded  as 
a  very  serious  matter.  Many  parts  were  altered  ac- 
cordingly ;  and  when  the  letter  was  finally  sent  to  the 
press,  its  original  gentleness  was  merged  in  the  more 
emphatic  passages  which  he  had  inserted  in  consideration 
of  our  urgent  requests.  Years  afterwards,  I  believe  in 
1832,  I  was  reading  a  tract  of  his,  while  sitting  with 
him  in  his  study.  Its  vehemence  pained  me  so  much, 
that  I  could  not  but  remonstrate  against  its  spirit.  He 
listened  patiently,  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
lookmg  up  with  the  sweetest  smile,  said,  —  '  The  sins  of 
earlier  days  arise  against  me.  I  followed  the  judgment 
of  friends  in  printing  that.  I  deeply  regret  that  there  is 
a  word  there  which  strikes  you  as  being  bitter.      Surely 


TREATMENT  OF  OPPONENTS.  89 

I  ntver  felt  an  unkind  emolion  towards  any  person  for  a 
difference  of  opinion.'  As  he  spoke,  the  whole  histoiy 
of  the  tract  flashed  upon  me.  It  was  the  very  letter  to 
Dr.  Worcester  to  which  I  had  been  instrumental  in  giv 
ing  its  present  form.  This  was  by  no  means  the  first  or 
last  occasion  when  he  heard  his  own  mildness  reproved, 
and  when  he  was  induced,  by  fear  of  betraying  the  cause 
m  which  he  was  engaged,  to  use  a  warmth  of  expression 
that  was  really  in  discord  with  his  own  temper. 

"  In  all  differences  of  opinion  with  others,  I  never 
heard  him  utter  a  harsh  word,  and  there  were  always 
marked  expressions  of  disapproval,  whenever  he  saw 
acrimony  or  unfairness  manifested,  however  obnoxious 
the  person  might  be  against  whom  they  were  directed. 
When  Dr.  Griffin,  who  was  the  head  of  the  Orthodox 
party,  and  bitterly  opposed  to  Liberalism,  was  officiating 
at  Park  Street  Church,  a  slanderous  report  was  raised 
against  him,  as  malevolent  as  it  was  false.  I  was  walk- 
ing whh  ray  brother  one  day  in  the  Mall,  when.  Dr. 
Griffin  having  passed  us,  he  was  led  to  speak  of  this 
base  story.  He  declared  how  deeply  he  was  shocked 
to  see  a  smile  of  triumph  on  the  countenances  of  the 
Doctor's  opponents,  —  many  of  them  being  of  course  his 
own  supporters.  His  language  on  this  occasion  was  the 
strongest  which  I  ever  heard  fall  from  his  lips.  As  he 
spoke  of  the  spirit  manifested  by  these  men,  made  mad  by 
theological  hostility,  he  characterized  it  as  exhibiting  the 
bases ,  elements  in  human  nature,  and  as  truly  diabolical. 

"  I 'will  give  one  more  example  to  illustrate  his  habit- 
ual generosity  toward  opponents.  A  clergyman  from 
a  distant  part  of  the  State  preached  some  sermons  in 
Boston,  in  1817,  in  which  he  severely  criticized,  and 
indeed    actually  vilified,    the    character    of  the    Liberal 


90  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

clergy  in  the  most  wholesale  manner.  I,  in  company 
with  several  acquaintances,  was  present.  In  the  evening 
the  discourse  became  naturally  the  topic  of  conversation 
among  us.  Much  indignation  w^as  expressed.  But  my 
brother  directed  all  his  remarks  to  softening  the  feelings 
of  those  who  were  aggrieved  by  the  abuse  of  honored 
friends.  '  I  cannot  blame  this  stranger  so  severely,' 
said  he  ;  '  these  harsh  judgments  never  originated  from 
himself ;  he  was  led  by  others  into  false  impressions. 
How  sad  is  controversy,  that  it  should  thus  tempt  our 
opponents  to  misrepresent  men  whom  they  might  and 
should  know  better  ! '  Thus  did  he  endeavour  to  find 
extenuating  circumstances  whereby  to  explain,  if  not  ex- 
cuse, the  conduct  of  his  adversaries.  These  slight 
recollections  are  of  worth  only  as  proving  the  essential 
disposition  and  uniform  behaviour  of  the  man.  He  was 
thoroughly  magnanimous  and  just." 

The  view  thus  given  of  Mr.  Channing's  character,  by 
one  who  was  an  eyewitness  of  his  course,  will  be  con- 
firmed by  the  following  extracts  from  his  letters. 

1819.  "  I  have  to  thank  you  very  sincerely  for  calling 
my  attention  again  to  this  subject.  My  inquiries  have  ended 
in  a  stronger  conviction,  if  possible,  of  the  truth  and  impor- 
tance of  the  views  which  I  have  published I  believe 

that  you  have  made  as  good  a  defence  of  Trinitarianism,  or 
rather  of  Christ's  supreme.dlvinity,  as  can  be  expected,  and 
am  assured,  that,  the  abler  the  advocate,  the  stronger  and 
more  general  will  be  the  conviction  that  the  view  cannot  be 
supported. 

"  I  wish  you  every  blessing,  and  great  and  increasing 
usefulness  in  your  important  and  responsible  station.  That 
God  may  deliver  us  both  from  selfishness,  ambition,  and 
prejudice,  and  that  he  may  show  us  our  errors,  whatever 


TREATMENT  OF  OPPONENTS.  91 

they  may  be.,  and  give  us  honesty  and  boldness  to  acknowl- 
edge and  openly  renounce  them,  is  my  prayer," 

1820.  "  I  have  read  enough  of  Dr.  Carpenter's  work  to 
learn  its  object,  and  I  lament  that  the  state  of  things  among 
you  has  laid  on  him  the  duty  of  exposing  so  much  at  length 

the  misrepresentations  of  Bishop   Magee I  am  too 

fai  from  you  to  judge  what  is  best,  and  since  this  work  has 
been  thought  necessary,  I  cannot  but  rejoice  that  it  has  been 
undertaken  by  a  man  so  imbued  with  the  Christian  spirit  as 
Dr.  Carpenter.  The  time  has  been,  when  it  would  have 
been  thought  good  policy  to  oppose  to  the  Bishop  a  contro- 
versial bully,  able  to  meet  him  on  his  own  ground  and  to 
fight  him  with  his  own  weapons,  and  as  little  scrupulous 
about  the  means  of  humbling  an  adversary.  But  I  trust  the 
times  of  this  ignorance  are  past,  and  that  we  have  learned 
the  wisdom  as  well  as  virtue  of  defending  truth  with  mod- 
eration and  benevolence.  That  party,  especially,  which 
makes  its  appeal  to  reason  and  looks  for  success  to  the  ex- 
tension of  deliberate  and  impartial  inquiry,  has  an  interest 
in  banishing  passion  and  violence  from  controversy,  and 
giving  the  example  of  forbearance  and  candor." 

1821.  "  The  death  of  Dr.  Worcester  affected  me  not 
a  little,  for  you  remember  that  he  was  one  of  my  opponents 
in  the  Unitarian  controversy,  and  certainly  not  the  most 
forbearing.  I  trust  that  I  learned  from  that  experience  a 
new  lesson  of  tenderness  and  charity  towards  those  who 
differ  from  me,  and  who  may  seem  to  be  injurious.  When 
I  see  how  fast  my  theological  adversaries  and  myself  are 
passing  away,  and  how  soon  our  motives  are  to  be  laid  open 
at  a  higher  tribunal,  1  cannot  but  hope,  as  I  look  back  to  the 
time  of  our  controversy,  that  I  have  cherished  towards  them 
no  unchristian  feelings. 

"  I  have  understood  that  Dr.  Worcester  fell  a  victim  to 


92  BIIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

his  zeal  in  the  cause  of  missions,  and  for  this  every  Chris- 
tian will  honor  his  memory." 

We  have  seen  Mr.  Channing's  earnest  desire  to  do 
justice  to  the  rights  of  individual  minds  ;  but  now  let  it 
be  observed,  that,  on  the  other  hand,  he  did  not  slight 
the  claims  of  the  collective  reason  of  man  as  declared  in 
tradition.  To  many  free  inquirers,  indeed,  he  must  have 
seemed  and  did  seem  timid  and  tenacious  of  old  preju- 
dices. He  was  no  destructive,  and  had  no  taste  for 
criticism  and  negation  ;  neither  was  he  so  insensible  to 
the  grandeur  of  spiritual  problems  as  hastily  to  construct 
an  eclectic  system  out  of  the  ruins  of  past  opinions,  or  to 
build  a  private  temple  from  the  unquarried  rock  which 
modern  investigation  had  laid  bare.  Conscience  com- 
pelled him  to  reject  many  dogmas  in  relation  to  God, 
human  nature,  and  destiny,  which  the  Puritans  had  trans- 
mitted to  their  children,  and  he  gratefully  received  the 
cheering  views  which  the  more  childlike  piety  and 
warmer  charity  of  the  age,  under  the  guidance  of  clearer 
science,  were  inspiring.  Though  thus  liberal,  however, 
he  was  very  far  from  casting  aside  all  established  convic 
lions  of  the  Church  as  superstitions. 

Of  the  three  grand  classes  into  which  Christians  may 
be  grouped,  the  Trinitarians,  the  Naturalists, 
and  the  Mediatorialists,  Mr.  Channing  undoubtedly 
belonged  at  this  period  to  the  last.  He  did  not  look  upon 
man  as  utterly  corrupt  in  sin,  and  see  in  Christ  the  in- 
carnate God,  descended  upon  earth  to  bear  the  burden 
of  our  guilt  and  woe,  and  by  self-inflicted  penalty  to 
provide  the  means  of  our  justification  and  pardon.  But 
neither  did  he  regard  man  as  in  a  normal  state,  advanc- 
ing by  natural  progress,  and  see  in  Jesus  only  a  person 


THEOLOGICAL    OPINIONS.  93 

of  religious  genius,  who,  under  the  impulse  of  a  fine  tem- 
perament, and  the  siimulant  of  enthusiasm  in  his  nation, 
had  attained  to  a  union  with  God  which  was  equally  acces- 
sible to  every  human  being.  Undoubtedly  he  recognized 
a  portion  of  truth  in  each  of  these  systems,  although 
dissenting  from  both.  But  he  agreed  rather  with  those, 
scattered  among  all  sects,  and  forming,  probably,  in  all 
ages,  the  majority  of  believers,  who  consider  mankind 
neither  totally  depraved,  nor  yet  merely  undeveloped, 
but  actually  degenerate,  through  an  abuse  of  free  will. 
And  in  Jesus  Christ  he  reverently  acknowledged  a  sub- 
lime being,  who,  by  his  coming  upon  earth,  had  brought 
about  a  crisis  in  the  condition  of  humanity,  had  touched 
with  healing  power  the  vital  springs  of  goodness  in  our 
race,  and  had  opened  the  heavens  through  which  ever- 
more flow  in  full  influxes  of  spiritual  life.  With  no  impa- 
tience to  invent  satisfactory  answers  to  mysteries  which 
he  saw  to  be  unsolved,  and  especially  anxious  not  to  di- 
vert men's  regards  from  the  goodness  of  God's  beloved 
Son  by  speculations  upon  his  rank  in  the  scale  of  being, 
he  yet  for  himself  was  inclined  to  believe  in  Christ's  pre- 
existence,  and  his  continued  mediatorial  power  over  hu- 
man affairs.  In  a  word,  he  was  then  an  Arian.  And 
any  one  who  has  read  the  extracts  already  given  from 
his  sermons  will  have  perceived,  that  passages  in  his 
published  writings,  which  have  often  been  interpreted  as 
merely  eloquent  rhetoric,  were  really  the  calm  suggestion 
of  thoughts,  which,  though  he  forced  them  upon  none,  he 
yet  inwardly  cherished  as  of  profoundest  interest. 

Hereafter,  perhaps,  more  than  at  present,  it  will  be 
recognized  as  Mr.  Channing's  distinguishing  peculiarity, 
that  he  blended  so  harmoniously  in  his  theology  views 
of  Christianity  which  are  usually  held  as  irreconcilable. 


94  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

Then,  possibly,  the  deliberateness  with  which  he  kepi 
before  his  mind,  as  open  questions,  doctrines  which  those 
around  him  on  all  sides  dogmatically  settled,  may  be 
considered  a  higher  title  to  honor  than  the  decision  with 
which  he  stepped  forward  to  uphold  the  right  of  free 
thought  and  speech.  However  this  may  prove  to  be, 
the  fact  undeniably  was,  that,  while  he  formed  the  most 
free  and  generous  estimate  of  human  nature,  he  held 
opinions  in  regard  to  the  Divine  government,  spiritual 
influences,  a  mediator,  and  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
which  by  most  Liberal  Christians  would  be  considered 
rather  mystical  than  rational.  Has  it  been  observed 
how  closely  he  connected  his  confidence  in  the  essential 
dignity  of  man,  his  aspirations  after  perfect  union  of  the 
human  will  with  the  Divine,  his  hope  for  the  future 
greatness  of  mankind,  with  the  fact  of  the  life  of  Jesus 
Christ  ?  In  this  complex  theology  of  Mr.  C banning 
shall  we  find  a  proof  that  he  was  a  man  of  imagination 
and  sentiment  more  than  a  philosopher,  or  shall  we  rather 
admire  the  wisdom  which,  while  it  made  him  bold  and 
frank  where  he  was  convinced,  kept  him  humbly  guarded 
before  the  unveiled  wonders  of  the  eternal  world  .'' 

It  certainly  was  not  owing  to  unwillingness  to  abandon 
wonted  habits  of  thought,  to  sluggish  indifference,  or  to 
any  form  of  selfish  fear,  that  Mr.  Channing  chose  to 
occupy  the  middle  ground  in  theology  ;  for  nothing  char- 
acterized him  more  than  the  youthful  eagerness  with 
which  he  greeted  the  advent  of  every  newly  discovered 
truth.  He  was  "  not  a  watcher  by  the  tomb,  but  a 
man  of  the  resurrection."  He  lived  in  the  mountain- 
air  of  hope.  And  at  this  period  of  his  life  he  was 
breathing  in  the  freshness  with  which  the  whole  intellect 


GERMAN    PHILOSOPHERS.  95 

of  Christendom  seemed  inspired,  as  h  pressed  onward 
across  die  wide  prairie  which  the  science,  philosophy, 
poetry,  and  revolutionary  tendencies  of  the  age  had 
opened.  It  was  with  intense  delight  that  Ire  made  ac- 
quaimance  vvith  the  master  minds  of  Germany,  through 
the  medium,  first,  of  Madame  de  Stael,  and  afterward 
of  Coleridge.  He  recognized  in  them  his  leaders.  In 
Kant's  doctrine  of  the  Reason  he  found  confirmation  of 
the  views  vyhich,  in  early  years  received  from  Price,  had 
quickened  him  to  ever  deeper  reverence  of  the  essential 
powers  of  man.  To  Schelling's  sublime  intimations  of 
the  Divine  Life  everywhere  manifested  through  nature 
and  humanity,  his  heart,  devoutly  conscious  of  the  uni- 
versal agency  of  God,  gladly  responded.  But  above 
all  did  tlia  beroic  stoicisxa  -of  Eicbte  charm  him  by  its 
full  assertion_Q£_tbe-gi^ii<iewf-o-^  ttie  iuiman  vvill.  Willi::, 
qut^adopting  tlie  systems  of  either  of  these  philosopliers,. 
andi_fortunately  perliaps  for  him,  williout  being  fully  ac- 
quaintejljvithjhese^ systems,  he  yet  received  from  their 
example  the  most  animating  incentives  to  follow  out  the 

paths  of  speculation   into  which  his  own  mind  ha.d  en- 

tered.  In  the  extracts  given  fronOLiiis  sermons,  there  is 
nothing  more  striking  than  his  increasing  spirituality,  his 
high  ideal  of  human  nature,  his  lofty  enthusiasm,  and 
glowing  hope.  In  thought,  act,  speech,  he  was  a  poet, 
though  his  chosen  position  was  the  pulpit,  and  the  ser- 
mon his  chief  medium  of  expression.  "  ^  ■ 

But  it  was  to  an  English  writer  that  he  was  indebted 
for  5  el  higher  pleasure,  and  perhaps  as  efficient  aid.  This 
,  ,,y,;^was  Wordsworth,  of  whom  he  always  spoke  with  the 
most  respectful  affection,  as  of  a  benefactor  by  whom  he 
felt  that  his  heart  and  mind  had  been  equally  enriched. 
Shortly  after  the  Excursion  appeared,  he  obtained  a  copy 


96 


MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 


y^ 


of  it,  which  was  sent  over  by  a  London  house  to  a  pub- 
lisher who  knew  hltle  of  its  worth.  It  had  been  her- 
alded by  the  ridicule  of  the  Edinburgh  Review,  which 
then  was  a  dictator  to  the  literary  world  of  America  yet 
more  than  of  Great  Britain.  But  to  Mr.  Channing  it 
came  like  a  revelation.  He  kept  it  constantly  by  him  ; 
and,  as  he  once  said,  had  "never  read  any  thing  but 
Shakspeare  more."  He  saw  a  beauty  even  in  its  pro- 
saic passages,  admired  the  rare  felicity  of  its  language, 
and  was  inclined  to  consider  it  the  most  elaborate  and 
finished  production  of  the  age.  But  it  was  the  spirit  of 
the  man,  rather  than  the  skill  of  the  author,  that  attracted 
him.  Wordsworth's  mingled  reverence  and  freedom, 
loyalty  and  independence,  manly  simplicity  and  heroism, 
—  his  piety,  trust,  humility,  profound  conscience,  and 
earnest  aspiration,  —  his  respectful,  tender,  appreciative 
love  of  man,  recognizing  greatness  under  lowliest  dis- 
guises, and  spreading  sweet  sanctions  around  every  char- 
ity of  .social  life,  — his  intense  love  of  beauty,  all-vivify- 
ing imagination,  and  mystical  adoration  of  the  Universe 
as  the  shadow  of  the  Infinite  Being,  —  his  subjective 
habits  of  thought,  metaphysically  refined  mode  of  obser- 
vation, power  of  looking  beneath  all  surfaces  to  the  life, 
and  beneath  all  forms  to  the  spirit,  —  his  high  idealism, 
humanity,  and  hearty  naturalness,  in  a  word,  combined  to 
form  a  character  with  which  Mr.  Channing's  was  in  fidl 
harmony. 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Cappe  il- 
lustrates at  once  the  influence  of  Wordsworth  over  his 
mind,  and  indicates  the  direction  which  his  thoughts  were 
taking. 

1820.  "  I  occasionally  see  the  Monthly  Repository,  and 
among  the  rational,  sensible,  and  matter-of-fuct  communica- 


SYMPATHY    WITH    WORDSWORTH.  »! 

fions  which  fill  that  work  I  have  met  now  and  then  with 
pieces  from  a  writer  who  seems  to  have  macle<itlie  discovery 
that  Unitarianism  and  imagination  and  poetry  are  not  irrec- 
oncilable foes.  The  author  is  one  of  Wordsworth's  school. 
WhenJ  tell  you  that  I  incline  to  the  heresy  of  this  writer, 
and  that  I  wish  to  see  among  Unitarians  a  development  of 
imagination  and  poetical  enthusiasm,  as  well  as  of  the  ra- 
tional and  critical  power,  you  will  not  wonder  at  my  curiosi- 
ty in  wishing  to  learn  who  this  writer  is.  I  have  before  told 
you  how  much  I  think  Unitarianism  has  suffered  from  union 
with  a  heart-withering  philosophy.  I  will  now  add,  that  it 
has  suffered  also  from  a  too  exclusive  application  of  its  ad- 
vocates to  Biblical  criticism  and  theological  controversy,  in 
other  words,  from  a  too  partial  culture  of  the  mind.  I  fear 
that  we  must  look  to  other  schools  foi  the  thoughts  which 
thrill  us,  which  touch  the  most  inward  springs,  and  disclose 
to  us  the  depths  of  our  own  souls.  Pardon  me  for  finding 
so  much  fault.  It  is  not  owing,  I  hope,  to  censoriousness. 
I  only  wish  that  truth  may  be  so  presented  as  to  be  friendly 
to  our  whole  nature,  that  it  may  develop,  not  chill,  those 
powers  which  have  always  exercised  the  mightiest  sway 
among  men,  and  which  seem  most  akin  to  inspiration." 

The  mood  in  which  Wordsworth  looked  upon  nature, 
man,  and  the  course  of  Divine  Providence,  was  for  the 
most  part  quite  congenial  to  Mr.  Channing.  But,  from 
temperament  and  position,  he  was  inclined  to  take  a  far 
more  active  part  in  the  stirring  scenes  of  the  time  than  the 
poet  seemed  to  encourage.  To  a  great  extent,  indeed, 
their  views  of  the  French  Revolution  and  of  Napoleon's 
career  were  the  same.  Together  they  had  stood  upon  the 
mountain  peaks  of  religious  faith,  while  the  tornado  of 
atheism,  charged  with  the  red  lightnings  of  military  power 
and  the  destructive  hail  of  radicalism,  had  swept   across 

VOL.    II.  9 


98 


MIDDLE-AGE    MIINISTRV. 


the  civilized  world  ;  together  they  had  seen  the  storm 
subside  beneath  ihe  mild  airs  of  humanity,  and  had  looked 
down  over  valleys  and  lowlands  serenely  smiling  in  the 
sunshine  of  Divine  love.  But  the  lesson  which  Mr. 
Channing  had  learned  from  this  tremendous  experience 
was  a  conviction  of  the  need  and  opportunity  of  peaceful 
reform.  His  gaze  was  bent  upon  the  future,  not  the 
j)ast.  In  full  justice  practically  rendered  to  the  nature  of 
man,  —  in  opportunities  for  culture,  refinement,  social  po- 
sition, wealth,  and  free  intercourse  opened  to  all  classes 
equally,  —  in  a  spirit  of  brotherhood  embodied  in  honora- 
ble and  humane  relations,  he  foresaw  the  means,  the  only 
means,  of  reestablishing  reverence,  loyalty,  courtesy,  and 
contentment.  Thus  are  we  brought  to  consider  the  po- 
sition which  he  held  in  political  and  philanthropic  mover 
ments.  And  we  shall  find  that  the  earnest  humanity  of 
his  youth  and  early  manhood  had  not  wasted  itself,  but 
rather  gained  depth  and  volume  in  its  onward  course. 

The  extracts  already  given  from  his  sermons  have  suffi- 
ciently indicated  Mr.  Channing's  feelings  in  regard  to  the 
military  despotism  of  France  under  the  stern  sway  of  Bon- 
aparte.* We  are  now  to  witness  the  unbounded  exulta- 
tion with  which  he  greeted  the  news  of  the  overdirow  of 
the  man  whom  he  then  and  through  hfe  regarded  as  an 
atrocious  tyrant.  On  the  8th  of  June,  1814,  a  number 
of  the  citizens  of  Boston  and  Massachusetts  assembled 

*  There  arc  yet  stronger  passages  than  those  which  have  been  quoted 
in  the  previous  volume.  And,  except  for  tlie  purpose  of  biographical 
illustration,  the  editor  would  not  have  felt  himself  at  liberty  to  preserve 
expressions  of  opinion  which  are  so  plainly  colored  by  the  prejudices 
of  the  past.  But  it  is  well  to  keep  a  record  of  the  state  of  feeling 
with  which  the  great  crisis  of  Modern  Europe  was  regarded  by  the 
men  of  that  day.  Let  the  future  judge  of  all  the  actors  in  those  try* 
ing  scenes. 


THE    SOLEMN    FESTIVAL.  99 

at  the  house  of  the  Hon.  William  Phillips,  the  Lieuten- 
ant-Governor of  the  State,  " 

"to  consult  upon  the  propriety  of  noticing  the  event  of 
the  entire  subversion  of  the  mihtary  despotism  which  had 
so  long  desolated  the  Christian  and  civilized  world,  in  a  man- 
ner suited  to  its  character  and  importance,  and  to  the  sen- 
timents which  it  was  calculated  to  inspire.  Deeply  im- 
pressed with  the  magnitude  and  the  beneficial  and  lasting 
mfluences  of  this  revolution  upon  the  best  and  dearest  inter- 
ests of  society,  they  had  no  hesitation  in  recommending  to 
their  fellow-citizens  the  observance  of  a  solemn  religious 
festival  in  commemoration  of  the  goodness  of  God,  in  hum- 
bhng  unprincipled  ambition,  in  crushing  wicked  and  unjust 
power,  in  delivering  the  world  from  cruel  and  disgraceful 
bondage,  in  restoring  to  mankind  the  enjoyment  of  their  just 
rights  under  the  protection  of  legitimate  government,  and  in 
giving  to  nations  the  cheering  prospect  of  permanent  tran- 
quillity. For  that  purpose  a  large  and  respectable  committee 
was  chosen  to  make  the  necessary  arrangements,  composed 
of  the  following  gentlemen  ;  — ■ 

Hon.  C.  Gore,  T.  H.  Perkins, 

George  Cabot,  E.  H.  Mills, 

John  Warren,  John  Lowell, 

B.  PicKMAN,  Jr.,  Samuel  Putnam, 

George  Bliss,  Wm.  Sullivan, 
John  Phillips,           Rev.  Wm.  E.  Channing, 

H.  G.  Otis,  Joshua  Huntington."  * 

Mr.  Channing  was  elected  to  deliver  the  sermon.  On 
the  15th  of  June,  the  day  appointed,  a  large  assembly, 
composed  of  the  most  intelligent  and  influential  persons 

*  Appendix  to  a  Discourse  delivered  in  Boston  at  tiie  Solemn  Festi- 
val in  Commemoration  of  the  Goodness  of  God  in  delivering  the  Chris- 
tian World  from  Military  Despotism,  June  15th,  1814. 


100  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

in  the  community,  filled  the  Stone  Chapel.  Never  since 
the  time  of  the  adoption  of  the  Constitution  had  there 
been  in  that  city  a  meeting  of  a  political  character  ani- 
mated with  a  deeper  joy  ;  and  no  speaker  could  have 
been  better  fitted  to  give  voice  to  the  latent  enthusiasm 
of  the  crowd.  On  no  public  occasion  of  his  life  was  lie 
so  carried  away  by  sympathy  with  the  profound  and  pas- 
sionate emotions  which  swelled  in  the  popular  mind.  He 
gave  full  vent  to  his  feelings,  —  with  free  and  bold  strokes 
painted  the  past  degradation  of  Europe,  —  poured  out 
the  vial  of  indignant  censure  upon  the  ambitious  despot 
who  had  made  Christendom  his  prey,  —  reawakened  the 
memory  of  the  awful  apprehensions  with  which  men  had 
watched  his  destructive  career,  —  and  when  the  audience 
were  swept  along  in  prospect  to  the  verge  of  ruin,  then 
he  drew  aside  the  dark  cloud-curtain,  and  showed  the 
benignant  promises  of  peace  spread  out  in  mercy  before 
the  exhausted  nations.  As  he  uttered  the  words,  "  The 
oppressor  is  fallen  and  the  world  is  free,"  the  pent-up 
feelings  of  the  assembly  burst  forth  in  acclamation.  It 
is  said  that  the  preacher  paused,  and  calmly  reminded  his 
hearers  that  they  were  in  the  presence  of  God,  to  whose 
providential  aid  their  humble  gratitude  was  due. 

This  sermon  was  rather  an  extemporaneous  overflow, 
than  a  studied  address  ;  but  it  may  be  desirable  to  ex- 
tract a  few  sentences.  They  prove  that  Mr.  Channing 
drew  encouragement  from  scenes  which  had  turned  many 
a  fervent  reformer  into  a  timid  conservative,  and  that  he 
looked  forward  with  confiding  hope  to  better  times. 

"  From  the  events  wliicli  we  this  day  celebrate,  we  are 
especially  to  learn  that  most  important  lesson,  to  hold  fast  our 
confidence  in  God,  and  never  to  despair  of  the  cause  of  hu« 


THE    NEW    ERA.  101 

man  nature,  howe^  er  gloomy  and  threatening  may  be  the 
prospects  which  spread  before  us.     How  many  of  us  have 

yielded   to  criminal  despondency  ! But  now  we  are 

taught,  as  men,  perhaps,  never  were  taught  before,  to  place 
an  unwavering  trust  in  Providence,  to  hope  well  for  the 
world,  to  hold  fast  our  principles,  to  cling  to  the  cause  of  jus- 
tice, truth,  humanity,  and  to  frown  on  guilt  and  oppression, 
however  dark  are  the  scenes  around  us,  and  however  dan- 
gerous or  deserted  may  seem  the  path  of  duty 

"  A  most  solemn  experiment  has  been  making  on  society. 
The  nations  of  Europe,  which  had  all  in  a  measure  been 
corrupted  by  infidel  principles,  have  been  called  to  witness 
the  effect  of  those  principles  on  the  character  and  happiness 
of  nations  and  individuals.  The  experiment  is  now  com- 
pleted, and  Europe  and  the  world  are  satisfied.  Never,  I 
believe,  was  there  a  deeper  conviction  than  at  the  present 
moment,  that  Christianity  is  most  friendly  to  the  peace,  or- 
der, liberty,  and  prosperity  of  mankind,  and  that  its  subver- 
sion would  be  the  ruin  of  whatever  secures,  adorns,  and 
blesses  social  life.  Europe,  mangled,  desolated  Europe,  now 
exclaims  with  one  voice  against  the  rule  of  atheism  and  infi- 
delity, and  flies  for  shelter  and  peace  to  the  pure  and  mild 
principles  of  Christianity.  Already  the  marks  of  an  im- 
proved state  of  public  sentiment  may  be  discerned.  We  are 
at  length  permitted  to  anticipate  the  long  lost  and  long  de- 
sired blessing  of  general  and  permanent  peace.  A  new  era 
seems  opening  on  the  world.  It  is  our  hope  that  the  storm 
which  has  shaken  so  many  thrones  will  teach  wisdom  to  rul- 
ers, will  correct  the  arrogance  of  power,  will  awaken  the 
great  from  selfish  and  sensual  indolence,  and  give  stability  to 
governments  by  giving  elevation  of  sentiment  to  those  who 
administer  them.  It  is  our  hope,  that  calamities  so  awful, 
oeliverances  so  stupendous,  will  direct  the  minds  of  men  to 
an  almighty  and  righteous  Providence,  and  inspire  serious- 
ness and  gratitude,  and  a  deeper  attachment  to  the  religion 
9* 


102  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

of  Christ,  that  only  refuge  in  calamity,  that  only  sure  pledge 
of-  unchanging  felicity.  Am  I  told  that  these  anticipations 
are  too  ardent  ?  Perhaps  I  have  indulged  the  hopes  of  phi- 
lanthropy, where  experienced  wisdom  would  have  dictated 
melancholy  predictions.  I  am  not  forgetful  of  the  solemn 
unccitainty  of  futurity.  But  amidst  all  uncertainties  which 
surround  us,  one  truth  we  know,  that  God  governs,  and  that  his 
most  holy  and  benevolent  purposes  will  be  accomplished."  * 

The  joy  of  this  festival  was  sobered,  however,  by  tho 
reflection,  that,  though  peace  had  settled  upon  Europe, 
the  United  States  and  Great  Britain  were  still  at  war. 
New  England  was  at  this  period  utterly  prostrated,  her 
conimerce  paralyzed,  her  people  bowed  down  with  tax- 
ation, and  to  such  an  extent  had  dissatisfaction  with  the 
measures  of  the  general  government  spread,  that  in 
December,  1814,  delegates  selected  from  her  most  emi- 
nent citizens  assembled  in  convention  at  Hartford,  Con- 
necticut, with  the  view  of  securing  their  endangered 
rights,  and  consulting  upon  measures  suitable  to  the  exi- 
gencies of  the  time.  Doubtless  there  were  some  who, 
in  their  disgust  at  the  war,  were  inclined  to  urge  a  separa- 
tion of  the  New  England  States  from  the  Union  ;  but  it 
is  now  well  understood  that  the  object  of  that  Convention 
was  to  open  a  vent  to  the  popular  excitement,  to  allay 
passion,  to  give  a  safe  direction  to  the  indignation  of  the 
community,  and  thus  to  avert  the  threatening  danger  of 
secession.  Mr.  Channing  was  among  those  who  thought 
that  every  thing  should  be  sacrificed,  except  essential 
principles,  for  the  preservation  of  the  Nation.  Then,  as 
through  life,  he  was  devotedly  attached  to  the  Union, 
and  though,  as  we  have   seen,  opposed  to  the  war  with 

*  Discourse  at  tho  Solemn  Festival,  &c.,  pp.  11  - 15. 


DANGERS    OF    CIVIL    WAR. 


103 


his  whole  soih,  as  utterly  unjustifiable  and  inexpedient,  he 
yet  never  allowed  himself  to  despair.  H'e  would  not 
abandon  the  hope,  that  the  promise  given  to  the  world  in 
this  republic  should  be  fulfilled.  His  views  are  well 
shown  by  a  few  extracts  from  a  sermon  preached  to  his 
people  immediately  after  the  news  of  the  Treaty  of  Ghent 
arrived,  and  repeated  on  the  day  of  thanksgiving  for  the 
peace. 

"  I  have  said,  that  the  single  consideration,  that  war  is  at 
an  end,  is  enough  to  fill  our  hearts  with  gratitude.  But  how 
should  this  gratitude  be  heightened,  when  we  consider  the 
state  from  which  peace  has  rescued  our  country  !  The  con- 
tinuance of  the  war  must,  I  fear,  have  destroyed  us  as  a 
people.  We  had  poured  out  our  resources  with  a  profu- 
sion which  had  emptied  the  treasury  of  the  nation,  and 
destroyed  the  credit  of  the  government.  Increasing  taxes, 
imposed  on  an  impoverished  people,  would  have  fomented  dis- 
content and  insurrection.  In  this  broken  state  of  society,  our 
best  institutions  would  have  been  shaken  to  the  foundation 
and  subverted.  The  obligation  of  contracts  Would  have 
been  violated.  General  bankruptcy  would  have  spread  gen- 
eral distress,  and  destroyed  the  moral  principles  of  the  com- 
munity. A  spirit  of  insubordination,  inflamed  by  hope- 
less suffering,  would  have  annihilated  the  authority  of 
law.  The  bonds  of  society  would  have  been  dissolved. 
These,  at  least,  were  the  solemn  forebodings  of  our  most 
reflecting  men.  Peace  has  saved  us  from  these  convul- 
sions  

"  Peace  is  snatching  us,  too,  from  the  brink  of  civil  dissen- 
sions. We  seemed  to  be  approaching  a  solemn  crisis.  To 
the  evils  of  a  foreign  might  soon  have  been  added  the  sorer 
evils  of  internal  war.  Thank  God  !  the  union  of  these 
States  will  at  least  be  prolonged.  The  day  which  is  to  wit- 
ness the  dissolution  of  our  political  fabric  is  at  least  deferred. 


104  MIl/DLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

May  we  not  trust  that  its  great  ends  will  in  a  measure  be  aC' 
complished  ?  Peace  has  placed  the  present  rulers  of  this 
nation  on  a  new  ground.  Without  endangering  their  power 
they  may  now  consult  the  good  of  the  whole  country.  Ev- 
ery motive  incites  them  to  encourage  industry,  enterprise, 
t!ic  development  of  resources,  in  every  division  of  our  wide 
land.  Let  every  aid  be  given  them  in  the  establishment  of 
a  generous  policy.  It  is  very  unimportant  in  whose  hands  is 
the  power  of  the  state,  if  it  be  but  honorably  and  wisely  em- 
ployed. Most  ardently  do  I  hope  that  the  men  who  have 
plunged  this  country  into  ruin  may  expiate  their  error  by  em- 
bracing, at  this  auspicious  moment,  a  magnanimous  course, 
and  that  their  success  may  find  its  reward  in  the  support  of 
all  parties  into  which  we  are  unhappily  divided.  Prosperity 
such  as  our  nation  never  yet  experienced  is  brought  within . 
our  reach.  Nothing  now  is  wanting  but  an  impartial  admin- 
istration of  the  government,  and  a  spirit  of  mutual  forbear- 
ance among  our  citizens,  to  fulfil  the  bright  anticipations 
which  patriots  of  better  days  cherished  for  this  favored 
people. 

"May  we  not  hope  that  the  lessons  of  experience  will  not 
be  lost,  that  a  better  spirit  will  pervade  our  communities,  that 
we  shall  learn  the  value  of  a  broad  scheme  of  action,  em- 
bracing at  once  the  interests  of  all  sections  of  this  extended 
republic  ?  May  we  not  hope  tliat  the  spirit  of  enterprise  and 
improvement  will  now  be  unchecked,  that  new  cities  and 
towns  will  everywhere  arise  on  our  shores  and  in  the  wil- 
derness, that  arts  and  science  will  be  widely  diffused,  that 
institutions  sacred  to  humanity  and  virtue  will  meliorate  the 
tone  of  social  relations,  that  civil  and  religious  liberty  will 
be  guarded  and  cherished  as  our  best  possession  and  most 
honorable  distinction  ?  Let  us  rejoice  that  we  are  once 
more  to  be  bound  in  amity  and  profitable  intercouree  to  every 
nation  under  heaven.  God  grant  us  perpetual  peace !  God 
grant  us  the  honor  of  contributing  by  our  commerce,  by 


THE    BLESSINGS    OF    PEACE,  105 

the  light  of  0111  intelligence,  by  the  example  of  a  free,  vir- 
tuous, and  contented  people,  to  the  happiness  Mnd  advance- 
ment of  the  human  race  !  " 

Thus  liberal  and  magnanimous  were  Mr.  Clianning's 
political  sentiments  at  the  close  of  the  troubled  years 
through  which  the  humanity  of  Europe  and  America  had 
been  called  to  pass.  But  the  sermon  whence  the  above 
extracts  have  been  made  is  interesting  also  as  manifest- 
ing his  views  in  relation  to  Peace.  The  horrible  cruel- 
ties by  which  Christendom  had  been  blasted,  as  by  lava- 
floods  and  ashes  from  the  open  crater  of  hell,  had  taught 
him,  in  common  with  thousands  in  all  lands,  to  look  upon 
war  as  the  most  awful  and  wasteful  crime  of  which  na- 
tions and  men  can  be  guilty.  And  he  takes  this  occasion 
to  deepen  in  his  people's  minds  a  conviction  of  the  hon- 
orableness  and  blessedness  of  peace. 

"  I  rejoice  with  you  that  the  groans  of  the  wounded  and 
dying  are  no  more  to  be  heard  on  our  shores,  that  the 
ocean  is  no  longer  to  be  stained  with  our  own  or  hostile 
blood,  that  the  skies  are  not  again  to  grow  red  with  the 
portentous  glare  of  flaming  towns,  that  we  are  no  more  to 
swell  the  crowd  of  widows  and  orphans  whose  hopes  have 
perished  on  the  field  of  battle.  I  rejoice  with  you  that 
the  soldier  is  to  return  to  his  home  from  the  depraving 
influences  of  a  camp,  and  to  earn  subsistence  by  better 
means  than  slaughter  and  plunder.  I  rejoice  with  you  that 
the  resources  of  our  country  are  no  longer  to  be  exhausted 
in  carrying  fire  and  death  to  neighbouring  provinces,  that  we 
are  no  longer  to  cast  away  our  own  blessings  by  attempting 
to  destroy  the  blessings  which  God  bestows  on  our  brethren, 
no  longer  to  ruin  ourselves  by  seeking  the  ruin  of  another 
civilized  and  Christian  nation.  I  know  that  to  many  war  is 
a  matter  of  course,  that  it  seems  to  them  a  trifling  affair 


106  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

to  shed  man's  blood,  to  desolate  fruitful  regions,  to  scatter 
terror,  want,  and  misery  over  once  happy  lands.  But,  thank 
God  !  I  speak  to  some  not  thus  hardened  by  savage  cus- 
toms and  the  calculations  of  inhuman  policy,  and  who  re- 
gard an  unjust  and  unnecessary  war  as  concentrating  the  guilt 
of  multiplied  murders.  For  one,  I  do  rejoice  that  this  war 
is  to  be  terminated  without  the  erection  of  a  single  monu- 
ment of  triumph  upon  the  soil  of  this  Commonwealth. 
What  compensation  could  have  been  found  in  the  most  splen- 
did victory  for  the  loss  of  distinguished  citizens,  of  men  made 
noble  by  character  and  intellect,  for  the  anguish  of  parents, 
widows,  children,  mourning  the  slain,  for  the  wretchedness  of 
bereaved,  dispersed,  impoverished  families  ?  It  is  not  Chris- 
tianity, certainly,  that  would  leach  us  to  forget  the  loss  of 
friends  in  brutal  exultation  over  the  slaughter  of  enemies,  — 
enemies  who  yet  are  men  of  the  same  nature  with  our- 
selves, children  of  the  same  Heavenly  Father,  commended 

by  the  same  Redeemer  to  our  good-will 

"  What  a  change  !  We  can  now  look  forward  to  the 
opening  year  without  the  anticipation  of  battles,  in  which 
even  success  would  have  covered  us  with  mourning.  In- 
stead of  watching  with  solicitude  the  movements  of  hostile 
fleets,  we  shall  see  our  harbours  enlivened  with  friendly 
sails.  The  ocean,  instead  of  bearing  freights  of  death,  will 
waft  onward  the  exchanges  of  mutually  beneficial  products. 
Our  homes  are  filled  with  happy  families  no  longer  distracted 
with  agonizing  fear.  Whose  prospects  has  not  this  joyful 
event  brightened  ?  From  whose  heart  has  it  not  chased 
most  melancholy  apprehensions  ?  How  had  war  palsied 
the  arm  of  industry,  closed  the  shop  of  the  artisan,  bound 
our  ships  to  our  wharves,  clogged  all  channels  of  inter- 
course, drained  off"  our  means !  Rich  and  poor  alike  have 
felt  its  power.  From  many  once  prosperous  families  it  has 
«wept  away  tlie  sure  support  of  life.  From  many  an  honest 
teborer  it  has   snatched  the  daily  bread  of  his  household, 


THE  BLESSINGS  OF  PEACE.  lOT 

and  many  a  generous  spirit  has  it  forced  to  lean  on  bounty 
which  once,  in  self-respect,  it  would  have  spurned.  Have 
we  not  all  had  reason  to  fear  that  by  its  continuance  the 
earnings  of  better  times  would  have  been  crumbled  down, 
and  that  those  dependent  on  us  would  have  sunk  into  want  ? 
But  now  this  blighting  scourge  is  stayed.  The  hope  of  hon- 
orable subsistence  is  revived  in  manly  hearts.  Anxiety  is 
driven  from  the  brows  of  parents.  Cheerfulness  spreads 
light  through  the  comfortless  dwellings  of  the  poor.  The 
young  need  no  longer  waste  their  best  years  in  dangerous 
and  disheartening  idleness.  Fields  open  on  all  sides  for 
the  expanding  powers  of  enterprise. 

"  With  what  joy  may  we  look  on  our  venerable  metrop- 
olis,—  joy  heightened  by  the  solicitude  with  which  we  have 
watched  the  decline  of  her  prosperity  !  Had  the  war  been 
but  for  a  few  years  protracted,  its  ancient  honors  must  have 
been  humbled ;  its  inhabitants  would  have  been  dispersed,  its 
schools  shut  up,  its  churches  deserted,  its  institutions  of  pi- 
ety and  benevolence  struck  with  decay.  But  now  the  fetters 
which  have  bound  our  energies  are  broken.  Our  silent 
streets  are  once  more  sounding  with  the  roll  and  hum  of 
business.  Our  grass-grown  wharves  once  more  are  to  swarm 
with  loaded  drays,  and  to  be  filled  with  heaps  of  merchan- 
dise. Our  dismantled  ships  once  again  are  to  spread  their 
wings,  and  bind  us  by  ties  of  harmonious  intercourse  with 
every  region  of  the  earth.  Once  more  our  beloved  metrop- 
olis is  to  become  the  home  of  honorable  usefulness,  the  nurs- 
ery of  public  spirit,  knowledge,  charity,  and  every  institution 
which  embellishes  and  exalts  human  nature.  Wealth  is 
again  to  flow  in  upon  us  through  all  the  circulations  of  in- 
dustry, not  to  feed  luxurious  indolence,  but  to  give  employ- 
ment to  the  poor,  to  quicken  ingenuity,  to  awaken  the  spirit 
of  beneficence,  to  encourage  science  and  the  elegant  arts,  to 
nurture  genius,  to  endow  seats  of  learning,  and,  above  all, 
to   diffuse  the   knowledge  and  power  of  Christianity.     My 


108  MIDDLE-AGE    MIMSTRV. 

friends,  I  rejoice  with  you  in  these  cheering  prospects 
Enter  again  on  the  labors  which  make  the  true  glory  of 
nations.     God  send  you  success  !  " 

Thus  earnestly  bent  was  Mr.  Channing  to  discourage 
the  infernal  custom  of  war,  and  especially  to  allay  "■  the 
proud,  vaunting,  irritable,  contentious,  aspiring  temper, 
more  disposed  to  honor  courage  than  humanity,  more 
restless  the  more  it  is  successful,  more  devoted  to  party 
than  to  public  weal,  more  open  to  the  influence  of  para- 
sites and  intriguers  than  of  wise  and  impartial  men," 
which  he  pronounces  to  be  the  bane  of  republics.  But 
while  thus  longing  for  the  era  when  the  lion  and  the  lamb 
should  be  led  in  a  leash  by  the  little  child.  Charity,  which 
he  believed  Christ  had  come  to  introduce,  and  which  he 
was  assured  would  in  the  fulness  of  time  knit  our  long- 
sundered  race  into  one,  he  was  not  then  prepared  to  take 
the  ground  of  condemning  defensive  war.  Whether  it 
is  to  be  traced  to  natural  temperament,  to  early  training, 
to  historical  studies,  to  the  habits  of  thought  of  the  age, 
or  to  principle,  it  is  certain  that  he  had  the  spirit  which, 
though  frail  in  physical  structure,  and  devoted  to  his  pas- 
toral office,  would  have  prompted  him  to  fight  in  defence  of 
his  country  in  an  extreme  emergency.  Incapable  of  per- 
sonal fear,  chivalric  in  the  tone  of  his  character,  and  pre- 
disposed to  that  love  of  heroic  deeds  which  in  rude  ages 
of  the  past  has  so  often  tempted  noble  beings  to  forget, 
amid  the  excitements  of  daring  devotedness,  the  destruc- 
tive outrages  of  war,  and  which  in  the  more  humane  future 
shall  surely  find  a  worthy  field  of  action  in  magnificent 
works  of  creative  industry,  he  was  nowise  disposed  to 
abandon  the  freedom  of  his  native  land  to  the  mercies  of 
an  invading  foe  without  a  struggle.      Throughout  this  pe- 


DEFENSIVE    WAR.  109 

ricd,  m  private  and  from  the  pulpit,  he  maintained  that  it 
1?  the  duty  of  the  citizen  to  die,  if  need^H^e,  in  pro- 
tecting the  religious  and  civil  institutions  of  his  nation  and 
the  inviolability  of  home.  In  this  very  discourse  on 
Peace  we  find   him   saying,  — 

"  We  feared  that  the  approaching  spring  would  invite  hos- 
tility to  our  very  doors,  tliat  our  families  would  be  dispersed, 
and  that  the  stillness  of  suspended  business  would  be  broken 
by  the  tumult  of  battle.  Had  this  lot  befellen  us,  I  trust  that 
we  should  have  done  our  duty.  We  should  have  fought  for 
the  city  of  our  fathers,  for  our  altars  and  our  firesides,  with 
the  spirit  of  freemen  and  of  Christians,  relying  on  the  justice 
of  the  right  of  self-defence.  But  how  should  we  bless  God, 
that  we  have  been  saved  from  this  sad.  necessity  !  "  * 

Fervent  Christian  though  he  was,  brave,  subdued  in 
will,  humane,  and  confiding  in  God,  it  thus  appears  that 
at  this  period  of  his  life  Mr.  Channing  had  not  attained  to 
see  the  omnipotence  of  love  in  its  undimnied  brightness. 
There  are  very  few  even  now,  indeed,  who  have  a  vital 
conviction  that  the  only  power  which  can  subdue  violence 
and  wrong  is  active  kindness.  Even  now  they  are 
thought  visionaries,  who  are  ready  to  disband  armies  and 
mihtia,  change  frigates  into  merchantmen,  dismantle  forts, 
and  make  of  prisons  colleges  for  moral  and  manual  cul- 
ture. And  how  can  universal  peace  prevail,  until  the 
rule  of  force  in  every  form,  and  even  the  negative  prin 
ciple  of  non-resistance,  give  place  to  the  living  law  of  co- 
operation in  all  industrial,  commercial,  social  relations  of 
communities  and  states  .''  In  unreserved  adherence  to  the 
cause  of  peace,  Mr.  Channing  was  surpassed  by  his  hon- 
ored friend,  the   Rev.   Noah  Worcester,  who  was  at  this 

*  See  also  "  Duties  of  the  Citizen   in  Times  of  Trial  and  Danger,' 
Works,  Vol.  V.  pp.  411-422. 
VOL.    II.  10 


110  MIDDLF.-Af;E    MINISTRY. 

time  residing  in  the  neighboiiiliood  of  Boston,  and  editing 
the  Christian  Disciple. 

This  noble-hearted  philanthropist  had  imbibed  in  full- 
est measure  Christ's  spirit  of  perfect  love.  Born  and 
bred  among  the  hard-working  farmers  of  New  England, 
self-instructed,  and  as  simply  independent  as  he  was  un- 
pretending, deliberate,  but  direct,  in  his  habits  of  thought, 
patient  to  follow  out  an  admitted  principle  in  all  its  ran)ified 
applications,  calm  from  discipline  yet  more  than  from 
natural  temper,  this  wise  and  gentle  man  adopted  in  its 
length  and  breadth  die  rule  of  overcoming  evil  with  good. 
He  lived  in  a  period  when  Christendom  was  rent  by  al- 
most universal  war,  his  own  nation  was  shaken  by  fierce 
political  struggles,  and,  prompted  by  irresistible  love  of 
truth,  he  gave  utterance  to  opinions  w  hich  plunged  him  at 
once  into  the  midst  of  angry  sectarian  controversies  ;  but 
still  he  drew  sweetness  from  every  bitter  experience,  and, 
candidly  as  frankly  declaring  the  convictions  to  which  con- 
scientious study  brought  him,  walked  ever  attended  by  a 
guardian  angel  of  tranquillity.  Poor,  enfeebled  by  a 
painful  disease,  and  dwelling  in  obscure  retirement,  he 
was  even  in  extremest  age  a  mindful  observer  of  every 
humane  movement,  kind  while  just  to  individuals  and  par- 
ties, and  opening  his  heart  with  hospitable  sympathy  (o 
every  reform  which  promised  to  reconcile  men  to  their 
brethren  and  to  God.  To  the  very  end  of  his  long 
course  his  presence  was  majestic  in  its  mildness,  and  he 
wore  upon  his  serene  features  and  meek  forehead,  with  its 
parted  silver  hair,  an  aspect  of  benignity  which  marked 
him  for  the  Friend  of  Peace.* 
\      Noah  Worcester  may  justly  be  called  the  father  of  the 

*  See  Dr.  Clianning's  cordial  tribute  to  tliis  pliilantliropist,  Works, 
Vol.  IV.,  pp.  394-407. 


PEACE    SOCIETY.  Ill 

Peace  movement  in  this  country,  by  bis  articles  in  tbe 
Christian  Disciple,  and  bis  "  Solemn  R#vievv  of  tbe 
Custom  of  War."  From  tbe  first,  however,  Mr.  Chan- 
ning  gave  him  tbe  support  of  respectful  sympathy  and 
active  cooperation.  In  tbe  spriig  of  1816,  be  preached 
a  discourse  on  War  before  tbe  Convention  of  tbe  Con- 
gregational Ministers  of  Massachusetts,*  which  was  ifn- 
mediately  printed  and  widely  circulated,  deepening  in 
many  minds  the  convictions  already  taught  by  the  terri- 
ble history  of  tbe  times.  This  discourse  prepared  the 
way  for  the  formation  of  tbe  Peace  Society  of  Massa- 
chusetts, the  first  meeting  of  which  was  held  in  bis  study 
in  tbe  parsonage-bouse  of  the  parish.  From  this  society 
sprang  all  tbe  kindred  ones  in  our  country,  and  its  influ- 
ence was  felt  abroad.  Mr.  Worcester  was  its  corre- 
sponding secretary,  and  tbe  editor  of  its  periodical  ;  but 
be  relied  in  all  bis  measures  upon  tbe  advice  of  Mr. 
Channing,  who  w'as  one  of  tbe  society's  counsellors,  and, 
according  to  tbe  authority  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Pierce,  "  its 
life  and  soul."  For  years  he  devoted  himself  to  the  woik 
of  extending  its  influence  with  unwavering  zeal,  as  many 
of  his  papers  of  that  period  attest  ;  and  from  among 
these  we  select  two,  as  bearing  upon  important  public 
questions.  Tbe  first  is  tbe  following  memorial,  wdiich 
was  prepared  by  him. 

"  To  the  Honorable  the  Senate  and  House  of  Representatives 
of  the  United  States  in  Congress  assembled.  The  memo- 
rial of  the  members  of  the  Peace  Society  of  Massachu- 
setts respectfully  represents, — 

"  That  the  society  which  now  solicits  the  attention  of  our 
national  rulers   was    instituted   for    the  single  purpose    of 

•  Works,  Vol.  III.,  pp.  29-58. 


112  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

diffusing  pacific  and  benevolent  sentiments  t!i rough  this 
country,  and  through  the  world.  Impressed  with  a  deep 
and  sorrowful  conviction  that  the  spirit  of  Christianuy,  which 
is  a  spirit  of  mercy,  peace,  and  kind  affection,  is  imperfectly 
understood  ;  afflicted  by  the  accumulated  miseries  and  ex- 
tensive desolations  which  war  has  lately  spread  over  the 
fairest,  most  fruitful,  and  most  enlightened  regions  of  the 
earth  ;  and  at  the  same  time  encouraged  by  many  decisive 
proofs  of  the  revival  of  purer  and  more  benevolent  prin- 
ciples among  Christian  nations  ;  your  memorialists  have 
formed  this  association,  with  the  solemn  and  deliberate  pur- 
pose of  cooperating  with  the  philanthropists  of  every  coun- 
try .n  promoting  the  cause  of  peace  and  charity,  in  strip- 
ping war  of  its  false  glory,  and  in  uniting  different  commu- 
nities in  the  bonds  of  amity  and  mutual  good-will.  We 
are  sensible,  that,  from  the  nature  of  our  object,  it  is 
chiefly  to  be  accomplished  by  a  silent  and  gradual  influence 
on  the  minds  of  men,  and  accordingly  we  have  limited  our 
operations  to  the  circulation  of  useful  treatises,  in  which  the 
pacific  spirit  of  our  religion  has  been  exhibited  with  clear- 
ness, and  we  hope  with  success.  We  believe,  however,  that 
the  present  moment  demands  a  departure  from  our  usual 
course,  and  we  cherish  the  hope,  that,  by  an  application  to 
the  government  under  which  we  live,  important  service  may 
be  rendered  to  the  cause  of  humanity,  in  which  we  are 
engaged. 

"  The  present  memorial  is  founded  on  two  occurrences, 
which  we  h^  as  auspicious  to  the  pacification  of  the 
world.  The  first  occurrence  to  which  we  refer  is  the  well- 
known  and  unprecedented  union  of  several  of  the  most  illus- 
trious powers  of  Europe,  in  declaring  before  '  the  universe 
their  unwavering  determination  to  adopt  for  the  onh^  rule  of 
their  conduct,  both  in  the  administration  of  their  respective 
states,  and  in  their  political  relations  with  every  other  govern- 
ment, the  precepts  of  Christianity,  the  precepts  of  justice, 
of  cnarity,  and  of  peace. 


PEACE    MEMORIAL.  113 

"  The  second  occurrence  to  which  wc  refer  is  the  decided 
expression  of  pacific  sentiments  and  anticip^Ttions  in  .he 
conclusion  of  the  late  message  of  the  President  of  the 
United  States,  in  which  his  parting  wishes  for  his  country  are 
expressed  with  tenderness  and  power.  In  this  remarkab,"e 
passage,  worthy  the"  chief  magistrate  of  a  Christian  comnui- 
nity,  he  expresses  his  conviction,  that  the  '  destined  careei 
of  his  country  will  exhibit  a  government  which,  whilst  it  .-e- 
fines  its  domestic  code  from  every  ingredient  not  congenial 
with  the  precepts  of  an  enlightened  age  and  the  sentiments 
of  a  virtuous  people,  will  seek  by  appeals  to  reason,  and  by 
its  liberal  examples,  to  infuse  into  the  law  which  governs  the 
civilized  world  a  spirit  which  may  diminish  the  frecjuency 
or  circumscribe  the  calamities  of  war,  and  meliorate  the  so- 
cial and  benevolent  relations  of  peace  ;  a  government,  in  a 
word,  which  may  bespeak  the  noblest  of  all  ambitions,  thu* 
of  promoting  peace  on  earth  and  good-will  to  man.' 

"  On  the  occurrences  now  stated  your  memorialists  respect- 
fully beg  leave  to  found  the  following  suggestions  and  solici- 
tations. 

"First.  We  respectfully  solicit,  if  it  be  consistent  with  the 
principles  of  the  constitution,  that  the  solemn  profession  of 
pacific  principles,  lately  made  by  several  distinguished  sov- 
ereigns of  Europe,  may  be  met  by  corresponding  profes- 
sions on  the  part  of  our  own  government.  Whilst  we  are 
sensible  that  a  melancholy  discordance  has  often  existed  be- 
tween the  language  and  the  conduct  of  rulers,  we  still  be- 
lieve that  the  solemn  assertion  of  great  and  important  prin- 
ciples, by  men  of  distinguished  rank  and  influence,  has  a 
beneficial  operation  on  society,  by  giving  to  these  principles 
an  increased  authority  over  the  consciences  of  those  by 
whom  they  are  professed;  by  reviving  and  diffusing  a  rev- 
erence for  them  in  the  community ;  and  by  thus  exalting  the 
standard  of  puhlic  opinion,  that  invisible  sovereign,  to  whose 
power  the  most  absolute  prince  is  often  compelled  to  bowj 
10* 


il4  MIDDLK-.\GE    MINISTRY. 

and  to  which  the  measures  of  a  free  government  are  entirely 
subjected.  When  we  consider  the  support  which  is  now  de- 
rived to  war  from  the  perversion  of  public  sentiment,  we  are 
desirous  that  our  government  should  unite  with  the  govern- 
ments of  Europe  in  a  distinct  and  religious  acknowledg- 
ment of  those  principles  of  peace  and  charity  on  which  the 
prosperity  of  states  and  the  happiness  of  families  and  indi- 
viduals are  alike  suspended. 

"  Secondly.  We  respectfully  solicit  that  Congress  will  insti- 
tute a  deliberate  inquiry,  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  the 
methods  by  which  this  government  may  exert  on  human  af- 
fairs that  happy  influence  wliich  is  anticipated  by  the  Pres- 
ident of  the  United  States,  the  methods  by  which  it  '  may 
infuse  into  the  law  which  governs  tlie  civilized  world  a  pa- 
cific spirit,'  '  may  diminish  the  frequency  or  circumscribe  the 
calamities  of  war,'  and  may  express  the  '  most  noble  of  all 
ambitions,  that  of  promoting  peace  on  earth  and  good-will  to 
man.'  We  are  persuaded  that  a  government  sincerely  dis- 
posed to  sustain  the  august  and  sublime  character  which  is 
here  described,  of  the  pacificator  of  the  world,  will  not  want 
means  of  promoting  its  ends.  We  trust,  that,  under  the  per- 
severing and  well-directed  efforts  of  such  a  government, 
milder  principles  would  be  introduced  into  the  conduct  of 
national  hostilities ;  that  the  reference  of  national  controver- 
sies to  an  impartial  umpire  would  gradually  be  established 
as  the  law  of  the  Christian  world  ;  and  that  national  com- 
pacts would  be  formed,  for  the  express  purpose  of  reducing 
the  enormous  and  ruinous  extent  of  military  establishments, 
and  of  abolishing  that  outward  splendor  which  has  so  Ic  ns 
been  thrown  around  war,  and  which  has  contributed  so 
largely  to  corrupt  the  moral  sentiments  of  mankind. 

*•  When  we  represent  to  ourselves  a  Christian  government, 
sustaining  this  beneficent  relation  to  the  world,  mediating 
between  contending  states,  recommending  peaceful  methods 
of  deciding  the  jarring  claims  of  nations,  laboring  to  strip 


PEACE    MEMORIAL.  115 

war  of  its  pernicious  glare  and  to  diminish  tlie  numlxir  of 
those  who  are  interested  in  its  support,  ditfusiag  new  and 
o-enerous  sentiments  in  regard  to  the  mutual  duties  and  obli- 
gations  of  different  communities,  and  inculcating  by  its  own 
example  a  frank  and  benevolent  policy  and  a  sincere  regard 
to  the  interests  of  the  world,  —  when  we  represent  to  ourselves 
such  a  government,  we  want  language  to  express  our  concep- 
tions of  the  happy  and  magnificent  results  of  its  operations. 
It  would  form  a  new  and  illustrious  era  in  human  affairs, 
whilst,  by  the  blessings  which  it  would  spread,  and  by  the 
honor  and  confidence  which  it  would  enjoy,  it  would  obtain 
a  moral  empire  more  enviable  than  the  widest  dominion  ever 
founded  on  violence  and  crime. 

"  Loving  our  country  with  tenderness  and  zeal,  accustomed 
to  regard  her  as  destined  to  an  exalted  rank  and  to  great 
purposes,  and  desirous  to  behold  in  her  institutions  and  poli- 
cy increasing  claims  to  our  reverence  and  affection,  we  are 
solicitous  that  she  should  enter  first  on  the  career  of  glory 
which  has  now  been  described,  and  that  all  her  connections 
with  foreign  states  should  be  employed  to  diffuse  the  spirit 
of  philanthropy,  and  to  diminish  the  occasions  and  miseries 
of  war.  Of  such  a  country  we  shall  exult  to  be  the  chil- 
dren, and  we  pledge  to  it  an  attachment,  veneration,  and 
support  which  can  be  accorded  only  to  a  virtuous  commu- 
nity. 

"  It  is  our  happiness  that  we  live  in  an  age  when  many 
noble  schemes  of  benevolence  have  been  accomplished,  — 
when  the  idea  of  a  great  amelioration  of  human  affairs  is 
no  longer  rejected  as  a  dream  of  fancy,  —  when  statesmen 
are  beginning,  to  learn  that  all  nations  have  a  common  in- 
terest,—  when  philanthropy  is  extending  its  views  to  distant 
countries,  and  is  executing  purposes  which  would  once  have 
been  regarded  as  the  offspring  of  a  blind  and  extravagant 
zeal.  In  this  age  of  enlarged  views,  of  generous  excite- 
ment, of  unparalleled  activity  for  the  good  of  mankind,  it  is 


116  MIDDLE-AGE    MLXISTRY. 

hoped  that  the  idea  of  a  nation  espousing  the  cause  of  peace 
and  humanity  will  not  be  dismissed  as  visionary  and  imprac- 
ticable. Enlightened  and  benevolent  statesmen  will  discern 
that  we  do  not  live  in  ordinary  times,  but  that  a  new  and 
powerful  impulse  has  been  given  to  the  human  mind, 
which,  under  judicious  influence,  may  issue  in  great  and 
permanent  improvements  of  the  social  state. 

"  In  presenting  this  memorial,  we  solemnly  declare,  in  the 
presence  of  God,  that  we  have  no  private  or  narrow  vie  vs. 
On  this  subject  we  belong  to  no  sect,  no  party.  As  lovers 
of  our  country,  as  friends  of  mankind,  as  disciples  of  Jesus 
Christ,  with  the  spirit  of  peace  in  our  breasts,  and  with  a 
deep  impression  of  the  miseries  of  war,  we  are  only  solicit- 
ous to  prevent  the  effusion  of  human  blood  by  human  hands, 
and  to  recall  men  to  the  conviction  that  they  are  brethren. 
We  trust  that  the  warmth  with  which  we  have  spoken  will 
not  be  construed  into  a  want  of  deference  towards  our  rul- 
ers. On  such  a  subject,  coldness  would  be  a  crime.  Our 
convictions  are  deep,  and  no  language  but  that  of  zeal  and 
earnestness  would  do  them  justice. 

"  We  hope  that  we  are  addressing  rulers  who  are  sensible 
to  the  responsibility  imposed  by  the  possession  of  power, 
who  regard  the  influence  which  is  granted  them  on  human 
affairs  as  a  solemn  trust,  who  consider  themselves  as  belong- 
ing to  their  country  and  to  mankind,  and  who  desire  to  treas- 
ure up  for  themselves  consolations  in  that  hour  when  human 
applause  will  be  an  unavailing  sound,  and  when  no  recollec- 
tion will  be  so  dear  as  that  of  having  aided  with  a  disinter- 
ested zeal  the  cause  of  peace  and  humanity." 

The  second  paper  is  a  letter  to  INFr.  Worcester,  in 
which  he  refers  to  the  war  against  the  Seniinolcs,  —  a 
war  tliat,  undertaken,  as  it  was,  by  a  strong  and  pro- 
fessedly Christian  and  civilized  nation  against  a  scattered 
remnant  of  Indians,  because  they   oflcrcd  a  retreat  to 


PKIVATEERING.  117 

slaves  who  liad  escaped  from  our  oppression,  and  with 
an  ulterior  desire  of  robbing  them  of  their  ^ands,  was 
certainly  a  concentration  of  all  mean  cruelties. 

"  The  Seminole  business  has  been  disposed  of  by  Con- 
gress, and  I  have  no  wish  that  our  society  should  enter  the 
lists  with  government.  But  may  not  the  subject  be  treated 
usefully  in  this  way }  Let  us  allow,  for  the  sake  of  the  ar- 
gument, that  the  majority  are  right  in  construing  the  laws 
of  war.  Let  us  then  state  distinctly,  and  without  any  exag- 
geration, the  acts  of  General  Jackson,  which  they  say  are 
justified  by  these  laws.  May  we  not  then  bring  home  to 
men's  minds  the  question,  whether  the  time  has  not  come  for 
repealing  such  horrible  laws  ?  If  war  demands  such  regu- 
lations or  outrages  to  accomplish  its  ends,  can  war  too  soon 
be  abolished .'  We  may  say,  that  Congress  have  authorized 
all  future  commanders  to  exercise  the  same  dreadful  discre- 
tion in  war.  If  so,  is  it  not  time  to  exert  ourselves  to  prevent 
the  recurrence  of  this  infernal  state  of  things  ?  It  seems  to 
me,  you  may  turn  to  good  account  the  decision  in  Congress, 
without  combating  it.  I  wish  this  occasion  to  be  made  use  of. 
The  recital  of  the  transactions  of  this  'justifiable  war,'  and 
comments  upon  it,  may  furnish  matter  for  the  number,  — 
and  I  believe  the  public  have  not  these  facts  before  them  in 
a  connected  series." 

We  have  already  seen  the  strong  detestation  with  which 
Mr.  C banning  regarded  one  of  the  basest  outrages  of  war, 
—  if,  indeed,  any  degree  of  more  or  less  can  be  found  iu 
the  guilt  3f  its  inhuman  practices,  —  namely,  privateering. 
But  so  much  had  he  at  heart  the  extinction  of  this  barba- 
rous custom,  that  it  is  but  just  to  him,  by  yet  further  quo- 
tations, to  make  his  sentiments  known.  In  the  sermon 
on  the  peace,  from  which  extracts  have  been  given,  he 
thus  speaks  :  — 


118  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

"  May  we  not  hope  that  mercantile  transactions  will  no 
longer  fly  the  day,  and  that  the  lip  of  perjury  will  be  closed  ? 
Let  us  especially  bless  God  that  peace  will  sweep  the  legal- 
ized plunderer  from  the  ocean,  that  privateering  will  no 
longer  violate  all  the  better  feelings  of  our  nature,  that  the 
ocean  will  be  the  pathway  of  upright  and  honorable  enter- 
prise instead  of  depraving  warfare,  and  that  we  shall  bt;ar 
our  part  in  dispensing  over  the  earth  the  bounties  of  Piovi- 
dence." 

The  following  letter  to  Mr.  Worcester  shows  the  mode 
by  which  he  proposed  to  awaken  the  national  conscience 
to  the  enormity  of  this  system  of  authorized  piracy. 

"  Bogton,  February  '^2,  LSIP. 

" communicated  to  me   your  memorial  relating  to 

privateering.  We  agreed  in  the  belief  that  no  good 
would  result,  but  that  some  evil  might,  from  presenting 
it  to  our  legislature.  I  will  talk  to  you  fully  on  this 
point  when  we  meet,  —  and  will  only  say  now,  that, 
such  is  the  relation  of  this  Commonwealth  to  the  general 
government,  that  our  best  friends  in  the  legislature  might 
doubt  the  expediency  of  such  an  application  to  Congress  as 
you  propose,  and  might  seem,  by  declining  to  act  with  us,  to 
favor  privateering.  May  I  suggest  another  mode  of  reach- 
ing our  end  .?  May  not  a  memorial  to  Congress  on  the  sub- 
ject be  circulated  through  the  xvhoJe  country,  so  that  at  the 
next  session  the  voice  of  the  friends  of  peace  and  humani- 
ty may  be  heard  from  every  State,  entreating  the  adoption 
of  measures  which  may  hasten  the  abolition  of  this  abomi- 
nable custom  through  the  Christian  world  .''  May  not  peace- 
sociefies  be  used  for  spreading  this  memorial,  as  well  as  the 
meetings  of  the  Friends'  religious  associations  ?  " 

The  caution  blended  with  Inunane  enthusiasm,  so  ap- 
parent in  this  last  letter,  is  yet  more  clearly  manifested  in 


CAPITAL    PUNISHMF.XT.  119 

another  on  a  kindred  topic,  —  the  abolishing  of  ihe  savage 
usage  of  punishing  the  rash  and  hidden  ciim^of  piivatJ 
murder  by  pubhc  murder  coolly  committed,  and  sanc- 
tioned by  judicial,  executive,  and  religious  proprieties. 
It  is  addressed  also  to  Mr.  Worcester,  who,  in  consisten- 
cy with  his  ruling  principle,  was  seeking  the  destruction 
of  the  gallows. 

"  We  must  not  alarm  men  by  the  appearance  of  adopting 
plans  for  the  amelioration  of  mankind  without  deliberation 
We  must  not  bring  forward  too  many  schemes,  even  if  ju- 
dicious^ at  the  same  moment.  This  is  the  way  to  raise  a  host 
of  prejudices.  We  must  proceed  gradually.  Your  labors 
for  peace  will,  I  hope,  be  blessed,  and  a  life  devoted  to  tliis 
object  and  to  the  diffusion  of  a  more  candid  spirit  among 
Christians  will  be  worthily  and  nobly  spent.  The  time  may 
come  for  the  discussion  which  you  wish  to  bring  before  the 
public ;  but  just  at  this  moment,  when  there  seems  to  be  a 
fear  that  philanthropy  is  going  too  far,  I  am  inclined  to  defer 
it.  If  you  will  trust  me  to  write  a  piece  on  the  subject  of 
capital  punishment,  showing  the  difficulties  which  attend  it, 
and  the  great  principles  by  which  all  punishments  should  be 
regulated,  I  will  do  it.  %  have  thought  a  little  about  it ;  and  I 
am  persuaded  that  the  immediate  object  should  be  not  so  much 
to  abolish  capital  punishments,  as  to  strike  at  the  root  of  the 
evil,  at  that  corruption  of  society  which  renders  severe  pun- 
ishments necessary,  and  to  enforce  on  the  community  the 
obligation  of  introducing  modes  of  punishment  most  suited 
to  reform  offenders.  I  fear  that  the  cause  of  humanity 
might  suffer  by  abolishing  capital  punishments,  unless  there 
should  be  a  simultaneous  introduction  of  modes  of  pun- 
ishment rnore  efficacious  than  would  be  left  on  our  present 
system."    ' 

In  addition  to  the  promotion  of  peace  and  a  reform  in 


120  MIDDLE-AGK    :.Il.\ISrRY. 

penileiitiaiy  discipliiie  and  punishuieuts,  other  pliilaa 
thropic  movements  also  engaged  Mr.  Clianning's  s}  ni 
pathy  and  aid.  As  early  as  1816,  he  preached  a  dis- 
course upon  Temperance,  which  his  society  urgently  re- 
quested him  to  print  as  a  tract  for  general  circulation. 
In  the  missionary  enterprise,  too,  he  was  much  interest- 
ed, and  brought  the  demands  of  this  cause  impressively 
before  his  people.  Indeed,  so  much  did  he  feel  the 
importance  of  this  sublime  effort  to  link  the  race  of  man 
into  one  whole,  of  which  Christendom  should  be  the 
heart,  —  by  streams  of  piety,  intelligence,  and  love  sent 
out  to  circulate  through  the  body  of  material  inter- 
course which  commerce  was  forming,  —  that,  according 
to  a  declaration  once  made  to  a  friend,  he  was  on  the 
point  of  breaking  all  his  social  ties  and  devoting  himself 
to  the  work.  Infirm  health,  however,  and  the  pressure 
of  the  immediate  duties  in  which  he  was  engaged  forbade. 
But  through  life  he  cherished  a  strong  conviction  of  the 
high  claims  of  missionary  labors,  while  at  the  same  time 
he  was  ever  becoming  more  earnest  to  cleanse  the  foun- 
tain, by  making  the  whole  life  of  Christendom,  national, 
commercial,  domestic,  individual,  more  truly  Christian. 

This  desire  of  evangelizing  mankind  was  closely  con- 
nected with  another  movement,  just  rising  into  notice, 
which  we  now  proceed  to  mention.  The  era  of  peace 
then  dawning  on  the  world  interested  I\[r.  C banning,  by 
the  opj)ortunity  which  it  afforded  for  uniting  Christians 
more  closely  in  common  labors  of  beneficence.  lie  saw 
everywhere,  as  he  thought,  tiie  signs  of  a  revival  of  a  life 
of  holiness  and  love.  In  his  sermon  at  the  "  Solemn 
Festival  "  he  had  said,  — 

"  This  reaction  in  favor  of  religion  and  virtue  will,  we  trust, 
continue  and  increase.     Amidst  the  sufferings  and  privations 


BIBLE    SOCIETV.  121 

of  war,  a  generous  spirit  for  the  diffusion  of  the  Scriptures 
has  broken  forth  ;  and  at  this  moment  that  sacred  volume 
which    mfidelity   Jpped    to  bury  in  forgetfuhiess  with   the' 
mouldering  records  of  ancient  superstition,  is  more  widely 
opened  than  in  any  former  age  to  the  nations  of  the  earth." 

Thus  are  we  brought  to  consider  his  connection  with 
Ihe  world-wide  movement  for  the  distribution  of  the  Bi- 
ble. In  1811  he  had  dehvered  the  first  anniversary  ad- 
dress before  the  Bible  Society  of  Massachusetts,  ^nd  from 
1812  to  1820  he  filled  the  most  important  office  in  the 
society,  that  of  Chairman  of  the  Executive  Committee, 
i  he  annual  reports  prepared  by  him  were  ample.  They 
were  regularly  printed,  and  became  an  important  auxili- 
ary in  promoting  the  objects  of  the  society.  A  k\v  ex- 
tracts from  these  reports  will  show  the  position  which 
this  movement  occupied  in  his  regards. 

1813.  »  No  sincere  Christian  can  need  arguments  to  con- 
vince him  that  he  is  bound  to  contribute  to  the  diffusion  of 
Christianity  through  the  world.  This  is  a  religion  designed 
lor  all  nations.  Jesus  Christ  commanded  his  disciples  to 
preach  it  to  every  creature  under  heaven,  and  shall  ive  do 
nothing  in  aid  of  this  great  design  ?  Is  the  gospel  the  ap- 
pointed mstrument  of  God  for  restoring  the  world  to  purity 
and  peace  ?  Has  the  Son  of  God  died  to  impart  this  inval- 
uable blessing  to  our  race?  Have  holy  men  of  all  acres 
toiled  and  suffered  to  spread  it  through  the  earth,  and  to  per- 
petuate It  to  unborn  generations;  and  shall  toe  do  nothing  to 
extend  the  knowledge  and  power  of  the  word  of  eternal 
life  ? 

_"  In  the  present  convulsed  and  disordered  state  of  the  world, 
It  IS  most  consoling  and  cheering  to  see  so  many  Christians, 
of  different  countries  and  different  denominations,  forgetting 
their  divisions,  and  uniting  in  one   great  effort  for  making 

VOL.     II.  11 


1^  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

known  the  Scriptures  to  every  nation  under  heaven.  Like 
the  rainbow  in  a  dark  and  stormy  sky,  this  is  a  promise  of 
a  brighter  and  happier  day.  It  is  suited  to  carry  forward 
our  thoughts  to  that  predicted  period,  when  the  knowledge 
of  God  shall  fill  the  earth,  and  all  nations  be  joined  in 
love  to  their  common  Father  and  Redeemer,  and  to  one 
another.  We  should  rejoice  that  it  is  the  design  of  Prov 
idence  to  effect  this  revolution  by  the  instrumentality  of 
Christians,  and  we  should  esteem  it  our  privilege  and  hap- 
piness that  we  may  bear  a  part  in  this  inexpressibly  sub- 
lime and  merciful  work  of  God." 

1815.  "  We  are  now  brought  to  a  subject  which  has 
awakened  peculiar  interest.  In  our  last  report  we  informed 
you  that  the  sum  of  .£157.  2s.  9d.  sterling  had  been  raised, 
chiefly  in  this  metropolis,  and  transmitted  to  the  British  and 
Foreign  Bible  Society  for  the  purpose  of  repairing  the  in- 
jury done  to  that  society  and  to  the  cause  of  Christian 
charity  by  the  unworthy  conduct  of  the  owners  or  agents 
of  an  American  privateer,  who  had  captured  and  sold,  and 
thus  scattered  through  our  country,  a  number  of  Bibles 
shipped  from  England  for  charitable  distribution  in  the 
neighbouring  British  provinces.  A  letter  from  Lord  Teign- 
mouth,  the  President  of  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  So- 
ciety, addressed  to  your  Corresponding  Secretary,  and  ex- 
pressing the  gratitude  of  that  society,  has  been  received ; 
and  we  are  happy  to  insert  it  in  this  report ;  not  because 
we  consider  this  transaction  as  entitled  to  the  commenda- 
tion which  his  Lordship  has  bestowed  ;  not  because  we  have 
the  least  desire  to  obtain  the  praise  of  generosity  for  whut 
•wc  deemed  an  act  of  justice,  and  a  faint  acknowledgment 
of  respect  to  that  munificent  society,  which  has  made  the 
■whole  Christian  world  its  debtor  ;  but  because  we  delight 
to  record  so  striking  an  example  of  the  spirit  of  Chris- 
tianity counteracting  and  triumphing  over  the  spirit  of  war. 


BIBLE    SOCIETY. 


123 


We  have  ever  esteemed  it  one  of  the  happiest  efTects  of 
Bible  Societies,  that  they  tend  to  unite  Chri^ans  of  all  na- 
tions, and  it  is  our  hope  that  they  will  awaken  in  Christians 
universally  so  strong  a  sense  of  the  near  relation  which  they 
sustain  to  each  other,  and  of  their  obligations  to  mutual  love 
and  kindness,  that  wars  between  communities  which  profess 
the  religion  of  Christ  will  be  more  and  more  abhorred,  as 
most  unnatural,  and  altogether  irreconcilable  with  the  holy 
and  pacific  name  which  they  bear. 

"  The  great  sentiment,  that  Christians  of  all  nations  are 
brethren  and  friends,  united  by  ties  which  war  cannot  dis- 
solve, and  bound  to  labor  together  for  the  promotion  of 
peace  and  holiness,  must  be  carried  with  power  to  every 
heart  by  the  perusal  of  this  letter.  May  the  time  soon  ar- 
rive when  Christians  of  every  nation  will  speak  on  this  sub- 
ject in  a  language  which  every  government  will  be  forced 
to  hear  and  obey 

"  It  is  also  with  great  pleasure  that  we  are  able  to  state 
that  your  society  has  received,  since  the  last  anniversary,  a 
large  and  valuable  accession  of  members  ;  *  and  we  confi- 
dently anticipate,  that,  among  the  other  fruits  of  peace  and 
returning  prosperity,  an  increasing  patronage  will  be  ex- 
tended to  an  institution  which  proposes  to  Christians  of  every 
name  an  object  which  all  must  acknowledge  most  worthy 
of  their  bounty. 

'•  Another  cause  of  congratulation  remains  to  be  mention- 
ed. We  refer  to  the  encouraging  intelligence  from  so  manv 
parts  of  this  country  and  of  Europe,  of  the  multiplication, 
activity,  and  success  of  institutions  for  the  distribution  of  the 
Scriptures.  The  spirit  of  Christian  charity  seems  to  gather 
strength  from  exertion.  Never,  perhaps,  since  the  first  age 
of  Christianity,  has  a  holier  zeal  existed  than  at  the  present 
moment  for  the  moral  and  religious  improvement  of  man- 

*  Tile  whole  number  of  members  is  432 


124  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

kind.  The  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society,  that  full  and 
living  fountain,  is  still  sending  forth  its  streams  of  truth  and 
consolation ;  and  distant  nations,  whom  once  no  bond  but  in- 
terest connected,  are  now  uniting  in  prayers  and  labors  for 
the  communication  of  the  gospel  to  every  creature  under 
heaven. 

"At  such  a  period  the  excitements  to  Christian  ex- 
ertion are  peculiarly  strong.  A  voice  seems  to  reach  us 
from  every  part  of  Christendom,  calling  us  to  strengthen  the 
hands  and  to  share  the  honor  of  our  brethren  in  extending 
that  truth  which  has  been  the  object  of  affection  and  hope  to 
the  pious  and  benevolent  of  past  ages,  and  which  we  are  as- 
sured is  appointed  to  have  free  course  and  to  be  glorified, 
until  it  shall  fill  the  earth,  and  all  flesh  shall  see  the  salvation 
of  God." 

1816.  "  Never  before  was  so  generous  an  impulse  com- 
municated to  so  many  hearts.  Never,  since  the  first  promul- 
gation of  Christianity,  has  so  sublime  a  spectacle  been  exhib- 
ited as  that  which  we  now  witness  of  Christians  in  both 
hemispheres,  separated  by  language,  climate,  manners,  and 
oceans,  forgetting  their  distinctions,  and  conspiring  as 
brethren  in  the  work  of  illuminating  the  world.  Perhaps 
human  history  affords  no  example  of  such  extensive  coop- 
eration for  the  good  of  mankind. 

"  From  such  institutions,  founded  by  the  most  illustrious 
men,  patronized  by  sovereigns,  endowed  by  opulence,  and 
inspired  and  sanctified  by  ardent  love  of  God  and  mankind, 
are  we  not  authorized  to  hope  a  melioralion  of  the  moral 
and  religious  condition  of  society  ?  May  wc  not  anticipate 
a  more  wide  and  glorious  manifestation  of  the  power  of 
Christianity  on  the  hearts  of  men  ?  INIay  we  not  especially 
hope,  that  Christian  nations,  being  thus  united  under  the 
peaceful  standard  of  the  cross,  and  laboring  and  triumphing 
together  in  the  cause  of  their  common  Lord,  will  drink  more 


THEOLOGICAL    SCHOOL.  125 

largely  into  his  spirit,  will  exchange  their  animosities  for 
love,  and  will  shrink  with  hon-or  from  the  thoflght  of  devot- 
ing each  other  to  slaughter  and  desolation  ?  " 

Mr.  Channing  was  interested,  not  only  in  extending  the 
circulation  of  the  Bible,  but  in  promoting  a  rational  and 
consistent  interpretation  of  it.  During  this  and  the  later 
portion  of  his  life  he  gave  much  time  and  thought  to  the 
elevation  of  theological  learning.  This  will  appear  more 
fully  hereafter  ;  but  a  few  hints  come  here  in  place,  which 
may  indicate  his  progressive  career  of  thought,  and  show 
his  ready  faithfulness  to  every  call  upon  his  energies. 
Immediately  after  the  death  of  Buckminster,  who  for  his 
age  was  undoubtedly  the  best  read  and  most  accom- 
plished theological  scholar  in  the  country,  and  who  had 
been  chosen  the  first  lecturer  on  the  Dexter  Foundation 
in  the  Divinity  School  at  Cambridge,  Mr.  Channing  was 
selected  to  fill  that  office.  This  was  in  1812.  He  ac- 
cepted the  appointment,  bought  a  portion  of  the  very 
valuable  library  which  his  lamented  friend  had  with  great 
care  and  expense  collected,  sent  abroad  for  various  books 
from  Germany  and  England,  and  began  to  make  prepa- 
rations for  these  new  and  difficult  duties.  He  was  pleased 
with  the  prospect  of  usefulness  thus  opened,  though  dif- 
fident of  his  fitness  for  the  work.  But  he  soon  found 
that  his  health  was  entirely  inadequate  for  the  efibrts  to . 
which  he  saw  that  a  conscientious  professor  was  sum- 
monedj  who  in  the  unsettled  state  of  theological  science 
undertook  to  be  a  guide,  and  in  1813  he  resigned  lii^ 
trust.  He  retamed  a  close  relation,  however,  to  the  Di- 
vinity School,  and  became  thenceforward  one  of  its  most 
active  guardians,  as  is  conclusively  shown  in  many  letters 
and  manuscripts.  The  careful  meditation  which  he  ha- 
11* 


126  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

bitually  turned  upon  an  institution  so  important  in  everj' 
view  to  the  well-being  of  the  churches  will  appear  by 
a  few  extracts  from  his  private  papers.* 

"  It  is  essential  to  a  good  institution  that  one  spirit  should 
pervade  it,  and  that  all  its  parts  should  harmonize.  The  bal- 
ance between  the  intellect  and  the  affections,  or  rather  their 
joint  action,  should  be  most  sedulously  provided  for.  Tht; 
Christian  character,  the  spirit  of  Christ,  as  the  ultimate  in 
religion^  should  be  presented  in  all  its  brightness.  Whatever 
draws  the  mind  from  this  is  injurious.  Zeal,  self-denial,  de- 
votion to  God  and  Humanity  is  the  essential.  The  general 
course  of  instruction  should  tend  to  produce  these.  Specu- 
lations awakening  skepticism,  or  undue  exercise  of  intellect, 
should  be  avoided.  Great  principles.,  on  which  religious 
sentiment  and  practice  rest,  should  be  strongly,  frequently 
offered  to  attention.  The  mind  needs  progress.  Difficulty 
is  its  stimulus.  But  should  it  not  be  active  chiefly  in  an- 
alyzing the  true,  in  working  on  what  is  substantial,  in  build- 
ing on  a  foundation,  in  developing  the  causes  and  connec- 
tions of  what  is  known  to  be  real .''  To  determine  what  pro- 
portion of  time  should  be  given  to  points  which  have  mocked 
the  efforts  of  the  wisest  men  in  all  ages,  and  which  are  yet 
agitated  and  under  debate,  requires  great  judgment." 

"  Young  men  who  are  merely  students,  self-indulgent, 
stimulated  by  the  desire  of  literary  distinction,  accustomed 
to  regard  the  profession  as  a  road  to  eminence,  and  feeding 
selfish  thoughts,  are  not  the  fit  materials  for  a  good  ministrv. 
Manners,  knowledge  of  the  world,  taste,  wide  range  of 
thought,  must  be  reconciled  with  and  pervaded  by  spirituali- 
ty, self-renunciation,  independence,  strong  action  of  practi- 
cal piety,  warm  and  patient  interest  in  the  neglected,  outcast, 
poor,  sinful." 

*  See  also  tlie  Tract  "On  Increasing  the  Means  of  Theological  Ed 
ucation,"  &c.,  18)6,  Works,  Vol.  V.,  pp.  363-371. 


THEOLOGICAL    SCHOOL.  127 

"  The  end  of  the  ministry  should  be  set  before  them  with 
great  plainness,  the  iiastness  of  the  change  w+iich  it  is  in- 
tended to  work  m  society  and  individuals.  They  should  be 
affected  deeply  with  the  condition  of  society,  with  the  con- 
viction that  its  state  is  exceedingly  remote  from  that  which 
Christianity  is  designed  to  bring  in.  Their  minds  should  be 
quickened  by  the  faith  that  a  great  change  is  practicable. 
Tameness  grows  from  the  thought  of  going  on  for  ever  in 
the  steps  of  the  past.  The  attention  of  theological  students 
should  be  turned  more  on  the  state  of  the  world,  less  on  ab- 
stract subjects  ;  a  lively  interest  in  its  progress  should  be 
aroused.  They  should  feel  as  men  set  apart  to  produce  a 
reform  in  the  moral  condition  of  mankind.  The  miseries 
of  the  mass  of  men,  their  toils,  ignorance,  sufferings,  tempta- 
tions, should  touch  them.  Study  should  be  seen  to  be  a 
means  only.  How  can  a  theological  institution  be  made  to 
give  to  its  students  the  advantage,  which  students  in  law  and 
medicine  have,  of  seeing  the  actual  application  of  princi- 
ples, the  profession  illustrated  in  practice  }  Study  conducted 
under  the  influence  of  sympathy  with  men  would  be  vastly 
more  efficient." 

"  The  present  course  of  training  is  too  technical.  It  does 
not  communicate  a  living  spirit.  A  tone  of  feeling  should 
pervade  the  institution,  so  that  new  students  may  at  once 
imbibe  it.  Fervor  should  be  a  primary  object.  The  intel- 
lect would  gain  force  and  largeness  from  such  spiritual  ex- 
citement. The  first  lesson  to  the  students  should  be,  that,  in 
order  to  communicate,  they  must  receive  and  be  filed  xoith 
the  spirit  of  Christianity.  Living  Christianity  should  be  the 
end.  It  is  true  that  this  spirit  cannot  be  poured  into  them. 
They  must  be  excited  to  seek  it  for  themselves.  But  this 
must  be  presented  as  their  most  indispensable  acquisition. 
The  understanding  of  religion  is  exceedingly  important ;  but 
moral  and  religious  truth  is  best  understood  by  the  moral 
and  rcligif  ms  culture  of  the  soul.     The  true  spirit  of  study 


128  MIDDLE-AGE     JIINISTKY. 

is  needed,  an  earnest  desire  to  look  into  the  deep  things  of 
religion  from  accordance  of  heart  with  its  sublime  realities." 
"Fixed  meditation  must  be  encouraged,  —  a  deep  per- 
vading sense  of  the  presence  and  perfection  of  God,  —  a 
wakeful  spirit  of  prayer,  —  a  strong  conviction  of  the  reality 
of  the  future  life,  —  a  devotion  to  the  cause  of  Christ,  iden- 
tification of  all  their  plans,  purposes,  and  hopes  with  it,  and 
a  sense  of  the  infinite  importance  of  Christianity,  —  a  reve- 
rence for  the  human  soul,  its  greatness,  worth,  perils,  pros- 
pects,j-^  a  vivid  perception  of  the  high  spiritual  purpose  of 
our  religion,  —  a  distinct  conception  of  the  celestial  virtue 
which  it  is  designed  to  cherish,  —  a  love  deep  and  disinter- 
ested for  elevation  of  soul  and  the  zeal  which  personal  expe- 
rience of  the  power  of  religion  gives,  —  courage,  hardihood, 
and  a  martyr's  patience,  —  a  correspondence  to  the  most  ear- 
nest spirit  of  the  age  ;  —  these  habits  of  mind  and  heart  will 
form  men  of  the  sacred  character  which  we  need,  and  fit 
them  to  be  sources  of  spiritual  life  to  society." 

"  Can  indifference  be  preserved  in  a  teacher  ?  Is  it  not 
m  human  nature  to  state  our  own  opinions  with  greater 
clearness  than  those  of  others  ?  A  teacher  should  aflect  no 
secrecy  ;  it  is  best  that  his  views  should  be  fully  understood. 
.The  pupil  left  alone  is  not  more  likely  to  discover  truth 
than  when  guided.  It  is  not  the  statement  of  his  own  opin- 
ions which  renders  a  teacher  dangerous,  but  an  unwilling- 
ness on  his  part  to  allow  students  impartially  to  examine 
them.  He  should  state  fairly  the  arguments  in  favor  of  his 
own  views,  but  he  should  exert  no  authority  or  influence  to 
prevent  his  pupils  fi-om  weighing  them  with  perfect  freedom. 
He  should  direct  them  to  the  sources  of  inquiry,  and  pre- 
sent them  with  the  means  of  forming  a  right  judgment, 
rather  than  attempt  to  mould  their  opinions.  Let  him  make 
known  the  opposing  views,  and  refer  them  to  authoi-s  who 
defend  them.  And  while  urging  his  own  convictions,  let  him 
caution  students  against  receiving  them  because  they  arc  his. 


HARVARD    UNIVERSITY.  129 

We  do  not  wish  a  theological  instructor  to  form  young  men 
after  the  pattern  of  his  system.  The  promotion -rrf  Christian 
truth  is  the  end.  No  teacher  is  infallible.  He  should  never 
pretend  to  be  so." 

"  Our  institution  is  distinguished  by  this.  It  does  not  aim 
to  teach  the  peculiarities  of  any  sect,  but  to  encourage  seri- 
ous, free,  honest,  well-directed  inquiry.  This  is  our  end,  — 
to  inspire  the  students  with  a  resolute,  impartial  temper  in 
the  pursuit  of  truth.  Our  fundamental  principle  is,  that  men 
may  preach  with  equal  faithfulness  who  differ  on  disputed 
points;  that  character  —  the  living  spirit  —  is  the  great  thing. 
We  do  not  wish  to  form  a  sect.  In  theological  institutions 
there  is  danger  that  monotony  of  mind  will  be  communi- 
cated, that  all  will  learn  to  think  alike,  that  there  will  be 
want  of  liberality,  impartiality.  Let  a  habit  of  fair  investi- 
gation be  encouraged,  let  all  minds  be  taught  to  examine 
questions  deliberately,  to  pause  before  coming  to  a  decision. 
Our  pledge  against  the  abuse  of  liberty  is  to  be  found  in  a 
devout,  humble,  reverential  spirit." 

But  it  was  not  alone  by  his  desire  to  give  a  pure,  large, 
and  practical  tone  to  theological  studies,  that  Mr.  Chan- 
ning  was  brought  into  active  cooperation  with  the  educa- 
tional movements  of  the  day.  In  1813,  he  had  been  cho- 
sen a  member  of  the  Corporation  of  Harvard  University, 
the  duties  of  which  office  he  continued  to  discharge  for 
thirteen  years.  During  this  period  he  took  an  efficient 
part  in  all  plans  for  the  improvement  of  the  course  of 
instruction  and  discipline  in  the  College.  Voluminous 
notes  remain  to  prove  with  what  comprehensive  and 
minute  attention  he  made  himself  acquainted  with  the 
condition,  wants,  dangers,  opportunities  of  the  students, 
ind  with  what  discriminating  sympathy  he  lent  his  aid 
»  every  proposed  reform.     One  or  two  extracts  from 


130  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY, 

these  papers  may  be  of  interest,  as  showing  his  general 

views. 

/ 
{     "Cannot  religious  and  moral  means  of  influence  be  made 

to  enter  more  largely  into  the  college  system,  and  give  it 
character?  Religion  should  be  professedly  and  conspicu- 
ously a  main  end  of  educationJ  Piety  should  be  held  forth 
as  an  essential  element  of  high  character  in  every  young 
man.  Literary  emulation  cannot  supply  sufficient  motive. 
We  corrupt  the  young,  and  weaken  their  best  principles, 
by  exclusive  use  of  so  low  a  principle.  Knowledge  should 
always  be  presented  as  valuable  only  when  inspired  whh 
and  controlled  by  high  principle.  The  mind  should  be 
turned  to  God  as  the  fountain  of  intelligence,  and  all  growth 
in  wisdom  should  be  seen  to  be  an  approach  toward  him 
and  a  preparation  for  the  fulfilment  of  his  designs  of  good. 
Religion  must  be  exhibited  as  the  glory  of  our  nature. 
An  ingenuous,  magnanimous,  heroic  form  of  piety  must 
be  inculcated,  such  as  is  fitted  to  win  the  generous  hearts 
of  youth.  Religion  still  has  a  monkish,  gloomy,  formal, 
superstitious  air.  It  is  made  a  master,  not  a  friend,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  young.  It  is  presented  to  them  in  the  aspect 
of  debasing  terror,  not  of  elevating  and  enlarging  hope. 
They  should  be  made  to  feel  that  it  is  the  source  of  all 
lofty,  honorable,  manly  sentiment.  Its  connection  should 
be  shown  with  harmonious  and  balanced  character,  with 
noble  aspiration,  sclf-dcvotedness,  grand  endeavour,  cour- 
age, independence.  There  should  be  a  religious  teacher, 
who  can  present  broad  and  generous  views  of  religion  in 
accordance  with  our  whole  nature,  who  can  converse  freely 
with  the  young  men,  visit  them,  attract  them  to  him,  and 
meet  the  deep  wants  which  spring  up  in  some  minds  at  this 

season  of  life 

"  Religious  character,  profound  moral  feelings,  a  strong 
spirit  of  Christian  piety  and  love,  are  all-important  qualifi- 


HARVARD  uNivi:nsiTy.  131 

cations  in  the  governors  and  instnicters  of  college,  so  that 
they  may  be  pervaded  by  an  earnest  conviction  of  the  su- 
preme importance  of  cuhivating  rehgion  and  virtue  in  their 
pupils,  and  may  constantly  show  that  religion  is  not  a 
mechanical  thing  with  them,  not  a  means  of  discipline,  but 
a  grand  and  living  reality.  Without  this,  intellect  will  be 
too  exclusively  the  object,  and  the  great  end  of  intellectual 
power  and  wealth  will  not  be  sufficiently  brought  into  view. 
Virtue  should  be  seen  by  the  students  to  be  the  paramount 
object.  No  amount  of  talent  or  acquisition  should  be  al- 
lowed to  be  a  substitute  for  want  of  morality.  Character 
should  be  regarded  as  the  primary  interest.  There  should 
be  a  kind  but  inflexible  demand  for  purity  and  goodness. 
A  student  should  be  made  to  feel  that  every  moral  taint  is 
disgraceful,  base,  abhorrent." 

Methods  of  instruction.  "  In  forming  a  system  of  edu- 
cation for  the  University,  whilst  the  highest  respect  should 
be  paid  to  experience,  important  aid  may  be  derived  from 
the  general  principles  of  education.  One  of  these  principles, 
which  deserves  peculiarly  to  be  called  fundamental,  we  pro- 
pose to  consider,  and  to  show  some  of  its  applications. 

"The  principle  referred  to  is  this,  —  that  in  education  the 
great  object  is  not  so  much  to  communicate  knowledge,  as 
to  train  the  mind,  to  exercise  its  various  faculties,  to  give 
it  the  free  and  vigorous  use  of  its  powers,  to  inspire  it  with 
a  love  of  truth,  and  to  form  it  to  patient,  quick,  and  keen 
investigation.  This  doctrine  seems  universally  admitted, 
and  according  to  this  the  principal  aim  of  a  good  teacher 
is  not  to  fix  in  the  memory  knowledge  which  others  have 
discovered,  but  to  make  the  student  as  active  as  possible 
in  discovenng  it  himself,  or  in  proving  and  establishing 
it,  and  in  following  it  into  its  results.  The  more  the  stu- 
dent advances  without  aid,  the  better  ;  he  must  be  helped  to 
dispense  with  help  ;  and  learn  to  go  alone  and  draw  from 
his  own  resources. 


132  WII)DLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

"This  method  of  teaching  will,  in  the  end,  conimunicaiis, 
a  far  greater  anaount  of  knowledge  than  others,  in  which 
the  mind  is  more  passive  ;  because  the  student  learns  in 
proportion  to  the  interest  which  he  takes  in  a  subject,  and 
a  vastly  stronger  interest  is  generated  by  active  inquiry 
than  by  a  passive  reception  of  others'  ideas.  Activity  of 
mind  on  a  subject  gives  a  true  and  enduring  property  in 
what  we  learn  about  it,  and  the  memory  grasps  firmly  what 
the  higher  faculties  have  labored  to  acquire. 

"  The  present  mode  of  teaching  is  chiefly  by  recitation, 
or  by  making  the  student  give  the  ideas  of  the  text-book  ; 
and,  although  this  is  less  fitted  than  any  other  mode  to  call 
forth  mental  action,  it  still  confirms  the  principle  we  are 
illustrating ;  for  the  chief  use  of  recitation  is  to  excite  the 
student  to  solitary  labor,  and  he  gains  in  this  way  incom- 
parably more  than  from  the  communications  of  his  instruct- 
ers.  The  assurance  that  strict  scrutiny  will  be  made  into 
his  acquaintance  with  the  prescribed  portion  of  the  text- 
book stimulates  him  to  study  it ;  and  if  he  have  tolerable 
capacity,  he  generally  possesses  himself  so  completely  of 
his  author's  ideas,  as  to  need  little  or  no  explication  from 
the  teacher. 

"  The  chief  use  of  the  instructor  is  to  make  the  student 
his  own  instructor,  and  the  fruits  of  his  unaided  application 
in  his  closet  are  incomparably  more  valuable  than  all  the 
assistance  or  knowledge  which  he  gets  from  the  lips  of  a 
master. 

"  Recitation,  however,  though  to  a  certain  extent  useful, 
is  not,  as  we  have  said,  the  mode  of  teaching  most  fitted  to 
call  forth  the  mind,  and  the  advancement  of  the  University 
depends  on  nothing  so  much  as  on  introducing  or  extending 
methods  more  adapted  to  this  end. 

"  It  should  be  a  leading  aim  of  the  teacher  to  raise  out  of 
his  branch  topics  for  inquiry  (.r  discussion,  —  subjects  on 
which  the  student's  power  of  analysis,  comparison,  discrim- 


HARVARD    UNIVERSITY,  133 

ination,  generalization,  or  invention  may  be  employed.  It 
should  not  satisfy  him,  that  the  ideas  of  the  te,<l-book  have 
been  received  ;  their  truth  should  be  inquired  into  ;  objec- 
tions to  them  should  be  stated  or  invited  ;  the  habil  of 
weighing  proofs  should  be  cultivated  ;  and,  in  general,  the 
student's  mind  should  be  made  to  look  as  much  as  possible 
on  the  subject  of  study. 

"  Some  brief  examples  may  illustrate  the  modes  of  teach- 
ing which  are  thought  most  important.  —  In  mathematics 
the  student  should  be  assisted  and  encouraged  to  furnish  his 
own  demonstrations  of  propositions,  and,  among  different 
methods  of  demonstration,  he  should  give  reasons  for  pre- 
ferring one  to  another.  The  discovery  of  a  new  series  of 
proofs  should  be  rewarded  with  particular  distinction.  The 
uses  and  applications  of  this  branch  of  knowledge,  its  his- 
tory, &c.,  may  furnish  topics  suited  to  increase  the  interest 
in  it.  In  experimental  philosophy  the  students  should  be 
invited  to  suggest  or  invent  e.xperiments  by  which  any  natu- 
ral law  may  be  established.  In  studying  nature,  gener- 
ally, nature  should  be  as  much  as  possible  the  text-book, 
and  the  student  led  to  read  it  for  himself.  Questions 
should  be  continually  raised  as  to  the  causes  of  the  com- 
mon changes  and  appearances  of  nature.  To  make  the 
mind  active  on  natural  phenomena,  to  accustom  it  to  re- 
duce all  which  it  sees  to  general  laws,  to  give  it  an  inter- 
est in  discovering  the  great  ends  and  connections  of  this 
glorious  creation,  —  these  should  be  the  aims  of  the  teacher. 
In  teaching  astronomy^  the  student  should  be  more  con- 
versant with  the  heavens.  Many  students  learn  from  books 
the  situations,  distances,  and  other  relations  of  the  planets, 
without  being  able  to  distinguish  one  planet  from  another. 
They  hardly  know  one  constellation  and,  what  is  still  worse, 
the  vastness,  splendor,  and  sublime  movements  of  the  uni- 
verse are  obscured,  if  not  virtually  hidden  from  the  mind, 
through  the  habit  of  studying  it  almost  exclusively  in  an 

VOL.   II.  12 


134  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

apparatus  which  is  infinitely  mean  and  disproportioned,  and 
has  no  power  of  exciting  the  soul. 

"  Logic  teaches  the  application  of  the  faculties  to  the 
discovery  of  truth.  It  should  be  taught  practically.  The 
students  should  be  made  to  find  or  invent  examples  of  eve- 
ry species  of  evidence  and  sophism,  to  analyze  processes 
of  reasoning,  to  point  out  false  reasoning  and  show  how 
the  mind  was  betrayed  into  it,  to  point  out  the  different 
modes  of  investigation  belonging  to  different  subjects,  and 
to  inquire  into  the  history  of  the  processes  by  which  the 
most  important  discoveries  have  been  made.  InleUecfual 
philosophy  is  a  still  closer  case.  The  subject  here  being 
a  man's  own  mind,  and  the  highest  evidence  being  con- 
sciousness, the  student  should  be  turned  to  his  own  breast, 
and  taught  to  consult  this  as  his  chief  text-book.  In  the 
classics,  endless  topics  offer  to  lead  the  student  to  investi- 
gations of  the  principles  of  language  and  criticism,  and  to 
the  exercise  of  taste  ;  and,  what  is  equally  important,  he 
may  be  led  into  an  intimacy  with  the  spirit  and  institutions 
of  antiquity,  with  the  influences  under  which  men  then 
wrote  and  acted,  and  by  which  character  was  determined. 
In  history,  the  chief  aim  should  be  to  teach  how  history 
should  be  read,  to  point  out  the  sources  of  historical  knowl- 
edge and  the  marks  of  historical  truth  and  falsehood,  to 
accustom  the  mind  to  weigh  historical  evidence,  to  teach 
the  application  of  history  to  the  sciences  of  human  nature 
and  polilics,  and  to  exercise  the  moral  sense  on  characters 
and  actions.  Once  more,  in  rhetoric,  the  student  should 
select  from  authors  examples  of  every  kind  of  figure  and 
composition,  &c.,  &c.  —  Perhaps  these  illustrations  are  too 
extended,  and  yet  they  arc  only  imperfect  hints  of  the 
methods  which  may  be  used  in  every  branch  to  awaken  and 
call  forth  mind. 

"  It  may  be  said  that  this  is  a  kind  of  teaching  for  which 
tlie  mass  of  the  students  are  not  ripe,  and  this  is  not  without 


METHODS    OF    EDUCATION.  135 

foundation.  There  are  many  of  whom  noihhig  more  can 
be  expected  than  a  knowledge  of  the  text-'^ook,  and  let 
these  be  thoroughly  and  patiently  drilled.  But  there  are 
some  fitted  for  the  higher  kind  of  instruction  here  recom- 
mended, and  perhaps  a  considerable  number  to  whom  it 
may  be  applied  in  one  or  a  few  branches.  A  leading  aim 
with  the  instructers  should  be  to  make  this  instruction  an 
object  of  desire,  interest,  and  competition,  and  such  it  would 
naturally  become.  It  would  form  the  broadest  of  all  dis- 
tinctions among  the  students,  and,  when  understood  in  the 
community,  would  be  referred  to  in  preparing  youth  for 
college. 

"  This  system  of  course  requires  classification  according 
to  capacity ;  and  without  such  classification,  it  is  conceived 
that  no  important  change  can  be  effected  in  the  University. 
As  long  as  the  present  system  is  maintained,  of  giving  the 
same  amount  of  study  to  all  the  students,  and  of  adapting  it 
to  the  average  of  talents,  so  long  the  standard  of  requisitions 
and  attainments  will  be  low,  or  it  will  rise  slowly,  and  we 
shall  be  surpassed  by  wiser  institutions.  The  constant  aim 
of  the  friends  of  the  University  should  be  to  make  it  worthy 
of  that  name,  to  perfect  the  system  of  education,  to  obtain 
justly  the  reputation  of  training  youth  more  generously  than 
any  other  establishment  in  the  country  ;  and  for  this  end 
instruction  must  be  given  adapted  to  the  highest  minds. 
One  effect  of  this  will  be  to  raise  the  average  of  capacity. 
We  shall  attract  those  who  are  fitted  to  receive  a  higher  and 
more  extensive  education  than  can  be  gained  elsewhere,  and 
a  standard  of  intellectual  effort  and  acquisitions  will  be 
formed  in  the  College,  to  which  the  great  body  of  students 
will  labor  to  attain.  A  single  section  educated  on  new  and 
better  principles  would  exert  an  influence  on  the  whole 
mass. 

"  Great  good  is  to  be  anticipated  from  such  a  method  of 
instruction,  if  we  consider  the  influence  it  would  have  on 


13()  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

tlie  teachers.  The  character  of  the  teachers  determines  that 
of  an  institution.  They  must  not  only  be  men  of  talent,  but 
must  have  that  talent  awakened,  called  forth,  made  manifest. 
They  must  bring  a  strong  interest  to  their  work,  and  of 
course  their  work  must  be  of  a  nature  suited  to  excite 
interest.  Now  the  employment  of  hearing  a  class  recite, 
for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  the  acquaintance  of  the 
students  with  a  text-book,  is  certainly  a  dull  one.  It  i&  a 
schoolmaster's  employment,  which  is  among  the  most  irk- 
some. To  go  the  same  dull  round  with  a  succession  of 
classes,  to  hear  the  same  thoughts  repeated  year  after  year 
from  a  most  familiar  book,  this  certainly  should  not  form 
the  exclusive  or  principal  occupation  of  a  man  of  talent. 
We  cannot  wonder  that  torpor  should  creep  into  such  an 
employment,  and  if  the  teacher  be  torpid,  whence  is  the 
scholar  to  gather  life  and  energy  ?  We  have  seen  that  the 
great  end  of  the  teacher  is  to  awaken  the  mind  of  the 
student  to  vigorous  exertion.  His  own,  then,  must  act  with 
vigor.  A  wearisome,  mechanical  listening  to  a  recitation 
is  not  the  way  to  kindle  curiosity,  to  inspire  a  thirst  for 
truth,  to  give  a  keen  interest  in  the  objects  of  study.  The 
proposed  mode  of  instruction,  in  which  the  student's  powers 
of  investigation  and  judgment  will  be  tasked  to  the  utmost, 
in  which  discussion  will  mingle  with  recitation,  in  which 
the  expression  of  doubts  and  difliculties  will  be  encouraged, 
and  in  which  the  teacher  will  be  called  to  act  on  sugges- 
tions, examples,  proofs,  objections  from  the  pupil,  would 
furnish  to  a  man  of  talent  a  field  not  unworthy  of  his  power, 
would  keep  his  mind  alive,  would  cause  it  to  be  seen,  felt, 
and  respected  by  the  students,  and  would  give  it  a  new  and 
quickening  agency  on  theirs.  This  influence  on  the  teach- 
ers, and  an  increase  of  animation  and  spirit  in  the  whole 
institution,  may  also  be  expected  from  the  new  and  multi- 
plied text-books  of  the  highest  character  in  eveiy  depart- 
ment of  literature,  which  would  siiccessively  be  introduced 


BENEVOLENCE,  13'7 

in  consequence  of  a  higher  kind  of  instruction,  of  the  sys- 
tern  of  classification,  and  of  the  option  which  would  be 
given  to  young  men  of  talent  who  shall  have  finished  the 
prescribed  studies. 

"  As  another  motive  for  the  mode  of  teaching  here  recom- 
mended, it  may  be  observed'  that  it  involves^one  of  the 
most  important  motives  to  intellectual  eifort.  It  will  give 
to  the  student  the  pleasure  of  successful  application  of  the 
intellect,  the  pleasure  of  attaining  truth  by  his  own  activity, 
—  a  motive  more  steady  and  enduring,  and  more  friendly 
to  intellectual  excellence,  than  emulation. 

"  In  these  remarks  we  have  not  intended  to  speak  dis- 
paragingly of  recitation.  In  the  beginning  of  college  life 
they  ought  to  be  frequent,  and  cannot  be  too  searching,  and 
there  will  always  be  students  of  an  advanced  standing  who 
can  learn  only  from  a  text-book.  But  there  are  many  stu- 
dents capable  of  a  higher  mode  of  teaching,  and  to  these 
the  recitations  necessary  for  the  former  are  waste  of  time 
and  a  heavy  burden.  The  principles  here  laid  down  admit 
of  extensive  application.  They  may  aid  us  in  judging  of 
the  utility  of  public  lectures  and  of  the  best  means  of  profit- 
ing by  them.  They  may  show  the  importance  of  frequent 
compositions  on  the  subjects  taught  at  college,  and  of  culti- 
vating more  than  we  do  a  ready  command  of  thought  and 
expression."  * 

The  sympathy  thus  for  ever  radiating  to  the  inter- 
ests of  society  at  large  did  not  exhaust  Mr.  Channing's 
love,  which  shone  only  brighter  and  warmer,  the  nearer 
the  sphere  of  its  action  to  its  central  source.  He 
was  still  a  practical    philanthropist.      Physical    debility 

*  These  remarks  were  probably  written  after  tlie  author's  return 
from  Europe ;  but  as  they  sum  up  the  resuhs  of  his  observation 
and  experience  at  this  period,  it  is  thought  better  to  insert  them 
here. 

12* 


138  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

had  gradually  warned  him,  it  is  true,  to  confine  his  per- 
sonal activity  within  narrower  limits  than  he  had  marked 
out  in  his  earlier  ministry,  and  the  whole  tendency  of 
events  had  been  to  teach  him  that  his  more  peculiar  and 
appropriate  function  was  to  be  a  discoverer  and  an- 
nouncer of  spiritual  principles.  But  proof  enough  re- 
mains that  the  benevolence  which  we  have  noticed  in  his 
spring-time  had  become  the  confirmed  and  unconscious 
habit  of  his  summer.  Indeed,  where  disinterestedness 
survives  the  frosts,  by  which  the  bleak  airs  of  a  world, 
made  selfish  through  isolation  and  competition,  nip  the 
buds  of  kindness  in  so  many  a  young  enthusiast,  it 
cannot  but  bear  full  fruits  in  manhood.  He  became 
constantly  more  guarded  in  his  charities,  and  there  is 
no  need  to  lift  the  veil  which,  with  true  delicacy  of 
feeling,  he  wore,  like  a  brother  of  the  Misericordia, 
as  he  went  about  on  his  errands  of  mercy.  But  as  a 
fact  tells  more  of  a  man's  temper  than  any  number  of 
general  assertions,  we  feel  at  liberty  to  give,  in  passing, 
one  illustration  of  his  modes  of  action.  Thus  writes 
a  recipient  of  his  bounty. 

"  I  ought  to  see  the  good  hand  of  God  continually 
stretched  out,  but  some  such  special  providences  strike  my 
mind  with  peculiar  power.  Were  I  to  tell  you  my  situation, 
your  conviction  would  brighten,  that  the  hearts  of  all  men 
are  in  the  hand  of  the  Lord.  For  a  number  of  days  pre- 
vious to  receiving  your  letter,  our  barrel  of  meal  and  cruse 
were  reduced  to  nothing,  and  I  had  called  on  a  number  for 
help,  but  could  not  obtain  it.  I  borrowed  a  horse,  and  set 
out  vvitli  a  determination  to  procure  some  necessaries  for 
my  family,  even  if  by  increasing  my  debts.  On  looking 
into  my  desk,  I  found  only  three  cents,  which  I  took  with 
me.     In  passing  through  the  town,  I  stopped  at  the  post- 


BERUY-STKEE7'    VESTKY.  139 

oflice  to  put  in  a  letter,  when  the  postmaster  informed  me 
that  there  was  a  letter  there  for  me.  I  thought  •within  my- 
self, '  How  shall  I  pay  for  it  with  three  cents  ? '  when, 
lo !  a  letter  is  handed  me  post-paid.  '  Generous  friend  ! ' 
said  I.  I  opened  it,  and  was  at  first  surprised  by  the  bill. 
But  after  reflection,  I  said  to  my  companion,  '  See  what  the 
Lord  can  do ! '  Though  the  money  gave  us  joy,  when  think- 
ing of  the  unknown  benefactor,  whom  God  had  enabled  and 
disposed  thus  to  contribute  lo  unworthy  strangers  ;  yet  the 
matter  of  the  letter,  distilled  from  the  heart  of  the  writer, 
gave  us  much  higher  joy.  When  paying  my  debts,  which 
I  was  thus  enabled  to  do,  and  procuring  some  necessaries, 
we  could  not  refrain  from  mentioning  this  kind  providence. 
I  hope  there  was  nothing  wrong  in  this,  as  we  read  that 
what  a  certain  woman  did  for  Christ  was  to  be  told  as  a 
memorial  of  her." 

To  every  form  of  public  charity  Mr.  Channing  lent 
his  ready  counsel  and  encouragement ;  but  it  was  chiefly 
within  his  own  congregation  that  he  was  earnest  to  se- 
cure efficient  union  for  purposes  of  mutual  culture  and 
cooperative  usefulness.  With  this  view,  he,  in  1817, 
addressed  the  following  letter  to  the  Committee  of  the 
Society  in  Federal  Street. 

"  Gentlemen  :  —  It  has  pleased  a  kind  Providence  to 
smile  on  the  religious  society  with  which  we  are  connected. 
The  present  ought  to  be  gratefully  acknowledged  by  us  as 
a  period  of  prosperity,  and  it  seems  to  me  a  peculiarly 
proper  one  for  accomplishing  some  valuable  objects  by 
which  both  we  and  our  children  may  be  improved. 

"  I  have  for  some  time  thought  that  a  vestry-hall,  or 
small  building,  belonging  to  the  Society,  and  placed  as  near 
the  church  as  may  be,  would  be  a  great  accommodation  and 
benefit.     The  uses  of  it  are  as  follows  :  — 


140  MIDDLE-AGE     PIIMSTRA'. 

"1.  It  would  be  a  convenient  place  for  catechizing  and 
instructing  the  children  of  the  Society,  —  a  service  for  which 
the  church  furnishes  very  poor  accommodations,  especially 
in  winter. 

"  2.  It  would  give  us  a  place  for  a  singing-school^  which 
is  very  much  needed.  Though  our  singing  is  very  much 
improved,  we  all  of  us  feel  that  it  might  be  rendered  a  more 
interesting  part  of  public  worship.  If  we  had  a  vestry 
attached  to  the  church,  I  think  that  several  persons  might 
meet  in  it  to  receive  instruction,  who  would  not  attend  a 
public  school.  Besides,  there  might  be  weekly  or  monthly 
meetings  of  those  of  the  Society  who  are  acquainted  with 
singing,  for  purposes  of  improvement  and  gratification. 

"  3.  It  is  known  to  the  Committee,  I  presume,  that  a 
charity  school  has  been  supported  by  contributions  from 
our  Society  and  the  New  South  Church,  an  admirable  insti- 
tution, and  conducted  in  part  by  young  ladies  of  our  church. 
I  am  very  desirous  of  giving  perpetuity  to  this  truly  Chris- 
tian establishment,  and  I  conceive  that  this  will  be  efiected, 
if  we  provide  a  building  in  which  the  school  may  be  kept. 

"  4.  There  is  also  a  Sunday  school,  just  commenced,  for 
which  a  vestry  would  be  highly  desirable. 

"  5.  If  this  plan  is  adopted,  a  place  will  be  provided  for 
meetings  of  the  church,  or  of  other  parts  of  the  Society,  for 
which  the  common  place  of  worship  is  too  large.  The 
young  ladies  of  the  Society  have  been  accustomed  to  meet 
for  the  purpose  of  being  instructed  by  their  pastor.  I  should 
wish,  if  a  suitable  place  were  provided,  to  meet  the  young 
men  also  for  the  same  purpose. 

"  6.  I  have  a  strong  impression  that  a  collection  of  the 
most  approved  looks  on  moral  and  religious  subjects  would 
be  a  great  and  lasting  benefit  to  our  Society.  Such  books, 
it  is  well  known,  have  an  important  influence  on  the  char- 
acter,  especially  of  the  young,  and  yet  thc^y  are  far  from 
being  common  among  us.     Perhaps-  the  extent  of  the  de- 


BEHRV-STREET    VESTRY. 


141 


ficiency  would  surprise  you.  There  are  some  families  of 
our  number,  in  which  individuals  may  be  foufW  with  a 
strong  taste  for  reading,  but  who  cannot  afford  to  purchase 
any  but  the  most  necessary  books.  In  the  families  of  the 
opulent,  too,  there  are  often  but  few  books  suited  to  illus- 
trate the  Scriptures,  and  to  furnish  religious  instruction,  and 
these  few  are  often  far  from  being  the  best.  This  defi- 
ciency is  not  to  be  supplied  by  circulating  libraries,  for  they 
contain  hardly  any  thing  but  works  of  an  amusing  nature. 
Even  where  a  disposition  exists  to  purchase  useful  publi- 
cations on  moral  and  religious  subjects,  the  wish  is  some- 
times frustrated,  either  by  mistakes  as  to  the  merits  of 
books,  or  by  the  inability  of  obtaining  the  best  in  this 
country.  Some  of  the  most  valuable  works  must  be  sent 
for  to  Europe,  because  the  demand  is  not  sufficient  to  justify 
booksellers  in  importing  or  reprinting  them.  These  con- 
siderations persuade  me  that  we  cannot  easily  render  great- 
er service  to  the  Society  than  by  laying  the  foundation 
of  a  library  to  which  all  classes  shall  have  access.  I  be- 
lieve that  reading  on  religious  subjects  will  be  very  much 
increased  by  it ;  that  the  attention  of  the  young,  which  is 
now  too  often  wasted  on  unprofitable  books,  will  be  drawn 
to  the  best  authors  ;  that  a  spirit  of  inquiry  will  be  excited  ; 
that  the  Scriptures  will  be  much  better  understood  ;  that 
the  minds  of  many  will  be  enlarged  ;  that  Sunday  will  be 
spent  with  greater  pleasure  and  profit ;  and  that  the  instruc- 
tions of  the  pulpit,  aided  by  books  which  the  preacher  will 
recommend,  will  be  more  efficacious. 

"  These  are  important  benefits,  but  these  are  not  all.  I 
would  recommend,  as  a  part  of  the  plan,  that  the  minister 
should  be  the  librarian.  The  consequence  of  this  will  be, 
that  his  intercourse  with  all  classes  and  ages  of  the  Society 
will  be  increased,  and  his  knowledge  of  the  books  which 
they  are  reading  will  furnish  useful  topics  of  conversation 
and  advice.     This  effect,  a  closer  union  between  the  minis- 


142  M1DDI£-AGE    MINISTRY. 

ter  and  people,  seems  to  me  very  valuable.  I  believe,  too, 
that  a  valuable  collection  of  books,  to  which  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Society  may  repair,  as  to  a  common  fountain  of 
instruction,  will  increase  their  interest  in  the  Society  and  be 
a  bond  of  union  to  each  other.  May  I  add,  that  to  the 
present,  and  especially  to  future  ministers,  this  collection  will 
be  of  great  use.  Our  salaries  do  not  permit  us  to  furnish 
oursd.ves,  but  very  imperfectly,  with  books  ;  and  the  liberty 
of  using  freely  such  a  library  as  I  propose  will  enable  us 
to  unfold  many  subjects  more  fully  than  at  present  to 
our  hearers. 

"  Your  friend  and  pastor." 

In  this  project  he  had  the  cordial  support  of  his  wise 
and  warm-hearted  friend,  the  Hon.  Judge  Davis,  wiio 
for  so  many  years  was  the  deacon  of  his  Society  and  his 
invaluable  counsellor,  and  the  Society  liberally  contrib- 
uted to  fulfil  the  plan.  The  building  was  finished  and 
opened  in  the  autumn  of  1818,  on  which  occasion  he 
made  an  address,  from  which  a  few  sentences  may  bf» 
selected. 

"  It  is  pleasant  to  see  a  work  of  our  hands  completed,  and 
especially  a  work  which  is  the  fruit  and  expression  of 
friendly  feelings,  and  which  is  a  testimony  of  attachment  to 
a  good  cause.  Such  is  this  building,  founded  in  brotherly- 
kindness  and  a  reverence  for  Christianity.  It  was  reared 
by  united  efforts,  and  we  have  now  met  to  set  it  apart  by 
an  act  of  devotion  to  purposes  which  our  hearts  approve. 

"  This  building  has  already  done  good  by  the  exercise 
which  it  has  given  to  your  liberality  and  to  many  pure 
sentiments.  It  is  now  doinjjf  pood  :  for  it  is  brincino;  us  to- 
gether  as  brethren,  as  members  of  the  same  Christian  com- 
munity. Yet  more  is  it,  wc  trust,  to  do  good  ;  for  we  have 
reared  it  for  the  advancement  of  Christianity,  a  religion 
which  meets  all  our  wants,  sorrows,  guilt,  and  fear,  —  which 


BERKV-STREET    VESTRY.  143 

opens  its  arms  to  infancy,  and  directs  the  ardent  mind  of 
youth  to  its  Creator,  which  furnishes  to  our  ripdT"years  mo- 
tives to  uprightness,  which  goes  with  us  to  the  grave,  and 
strengthens  the  sight  to  discern  a  hrighter  world  beyond. 

"  One  leading  object  of  this  building  was,  to  provide  for 
the  religious  instruction  of  children.  I  need  not  observe 
to  you,  that  in  our  public  services  our  children  hear  nuich 
which  they  cannot  understand,  and  that  they  need  'nore 
simple  and  direct  instruction.  If  strength  shall  be  ^iven 
me,  I  shall  engage  in  this  work,  I  hope,  with  more  earnest- 
ness than  I  have  been  able  to  do,  though  not  without  diffi 
dence.  The  task  is  not  as  easy  a  one  as  many  suppose. 
It  is  easier  to  convey  knowledge  to  minds  as  ripe  as  our 
own,  than  to  adapt  ourselves  to  an  age  of  which  we  pre- 
serve only  indistinct  recollections.  There  is,  indeed,  no 
labor  in  teaching  children  to  repeat  words  ;  but  to  propor- 
tion our  communications  to  their  capacities,  to  bring  the 
invisible  God  near  to  them,  to  excite  them  to  thought,  to 
touch  their  hearts,  —  these  are  objects  which  have  not  suf- 
ficiently been  pi'oposed  in  education,  and  we  must  advance 
towards  them  by  a  path  of  our  own  discovery.  In  this  part 
of  my  duty,  I  hope  that  some  of  you  will  have  the  leisure 
and  disposition  to  assist.  I  could  wish  that  we  might  con- 
sider the  religious  education  of  the  children  of  the  Society 
a  common  end,  to  be  talked  of  when  we  meet,  and  to  be 
advanced  by  each  other's  observations  and  experiments.  I 
dare  not  pledge  myself  for  great  exertion,  but,  if  health 
permit,  I  should  delight  in  making  the  trial,  how  far  paro- 
chial may  aid  domestic  instruction,  in  saving  children  from 
temptations,  imbuing  them  with  Christian  principle,  and, 
while  they  are  yet  tender  and  unfettered  by  habit,  confirm- 
ing their  choice  of  a  pious  and  virtuous  life. 

"  It  is  also  my  hope  to  meet  here  the  ladies  of  the  So- 
ciety whom  I  have  been  accustomed  to  assemble  for  the 
study  of  the  Scriptures ;  and  nothing  would  gratify  me  more 


141  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

than  to  meet  occasionally  the  young  men  for  free  conver 
sation,  or  more  regular  instruction,  on  the  subject  of  re 
ligion." 

The  meetings  of  ladies  which  are  here  referred  to 
had  been  held  by  ]Mr.  C banning  for  many  years.  One 
who  was  at  this  period  his  parishioner,  and  thence- 
forward to  the  end  of  his  life  an  intimate  and  valued 
friend,  Mrs.  George  Lee,*  thus  records  her  recoliec 
tions  of  them. 

"  These  meetings  were  usually  held  at  the  house  of  Mrs. 
Codman.  They  were  intended  for  religious  instruction  and 
for  awakening  a  just  comprehension  of  religious  duty. 
Mr.  Channing  opened  the  services  by  reading  portions  of 
the  New  Testament,  which  he  commented  upon  in  his  lucid 
manner,  throwing  light  upon  obscure  passages,  and  rousing 
his  hearers'  minds  to  their  highest  capacity  of  reflection. 
His  observations  were  eminently  fitted  to  inspire  a  devo- 
tional feeling,  and  shed  abroad  a  spirit  of  prayer.  The 
subjects  selected  were  those  which  the  whole  tenor  of  his 
life  and  preaching  inculcated,  —  unreserved  love  of  our 
Heavenly  Father,  uncompromising  obedience  to  bis  will, 
the  surrender  of  the  whole  soul  to  bis  service,  the  unspeak- 
able benefits  received  through  the  mission  of  bis  Son,  the 
wisdom  as  well  as  beauty  of  holiness.  It  was  by  bis  fervent 
and  exalted  manner,  that  he  prepared  his  auditors  for  the 
closing  prayer;  and  when  he  arose, —  for  be  addressed  us 
seated,  —  and  said  with  bis  solemn  and  impressive  voice, 
'  Let  us  pray,'  I  am  sure  there  was  not  a  wandering  heart 
amongst  us. 

"  The  meeting  might  be  called  one  for  social  worship, 
a  gatberinjT  round  a  domestic  altar.     The  effect  could  not 

*  Autlior  of  Three  Kxpcriincnts  of  Living,  Tiic  Huguenots  in 
France  and  America,  &c. 


GROWING    CELEBRITY.  145 

but  be  salutary.  A  few  hours  were  redeemed  fi-om  the 
cares  and  anxieties,  the  frivoUties  and  convention^forms  of 
life,  and  the  mind  called  home  and  directed  to  its  higliest 
destination.  The  number  of  worshippers  varied  ;  but  I 
should  think  there  were  usually  fifty  or  more  present.  The 
meeting  was  designed  for  the  females  of  his  own  Society, 
though  others  often  requested  the  privilege  of  attending.  I 
am  happy  to  recall  those  pleasant  days,  and  cannot  be 
grateful  enough  that  to  the  last  I  enjoyed  the  conversation 
of  our  beloved  friend,  and  felt  the  influence  of  his  life. 
Can  I  ever  forget  his  calm,  impressive  tone  ?  " 

Thus  it  appears  that  Mr.  Channing  was  still  an  active 
pastor.  But  it  was  chiefly  through  his  sermons  that  he 
exerted  influence.  His  power  in  the  pulpit  had  from 
the  first  been  constantly  increasing,  and  his  full  congre- 
gation was  now  often  crowded  by  strangers,  who  gathered 
from  various  motives  to  hear  one  who  was  everywhere 
recognized  as  the  most  eloquent  and  effective  preacher 
in  Boston.  His  discourses  occasioned  by  the  great 
political  crisis  through  which  the  country  had  been  called 
to  pass,  from  1812  onwards,  —  the  bold,  original,  and 
discriminating  address  on  war  in  1816,  —  his  able  publi- 
cations in  the  Unitarian  controversy,  and  especially  his 
Baltimore  sermon,  delivered  in  1819,  of  which  several 
editions  were  at  once  printed,  and  which  was  circulated 
through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land,  — and,  final- 
ly, the  masterly  Dudlelan  Lecture  in  1821,  in  which  so 
succinctly  and  glowingly  he  presented  the  evidences  of 
Revealed  Religion,  had  gradually  established  his  posi- 
tion in  th3  very  first  rank  of  the  thinkers  and  scholars 
of  the  country  ;  and  at  this  time  he  was  experiencing 
all  the  incentives  and  temptations  of  celebrity.  That  he 
was  painfully  conscious  of  the  ensnaring  power  of  the 

VOL.    II.  13 


146  MIDDLE-AGE    MIMSTRY. 

ambition  which  a  position  of  such  eminence  naturallK 
engenders  appears  from  the  care  with  which  in  his  jour- 
nals he  guards  himself  against  its  charms  and  strives  to 
maintain  the  purest  singleness  of  purpose.  His  private 
papers  of  this  whole  period  are  most  affecting  from  their 
moral  beauty  ;-but  the  reader  turns  his  eye  away  from 
secrets  which  a  mortal  scarcely  whispers  to  his  own 
heart,  and  a  feeling  comes  over  him  of  the  awful  sanc- 
tity of  that  temple  of  the  soul  whereinto  God's  guardian 
angels  only  have  befitting  innocence  to  enter.  It  is 
enough  to  say,  that  conscience  sat  ever  vigilant  at  the 
portal  of  his  heart,  like  a  father  confessor,  listening  to 
hear  the  faintest  breathings  of  remorse,  to  prescribe  the 
needed  penance,  to  give  the  blessed  sign  and  word  of 
absolution. 

Yet  from  the  piles  of  these  documents,  in  which  the 
writer's  inmost  experience  is  laid  bare,  as  if  he  stood 
transparent  in  the  very  light  of  the  all-penetrating  eye, 
it  seems  but  right  to  select  a  few  of  the  less  personal, 
expressions  of  feeling  and  thought  ;  for  there  is  no  other 
way  of  showing  the  essential  ciiaracter  of  the  man. 
The  most  striking  intellectual  peculiarity  of  these  papers 
is  their  minute  exhaustive  analysis,  —  their  spirit  is  de- 
voutness.  The  writer  lakes  up  some  disposition  of  which 
he  is  conscious,  some  branch  of  duty,  some  relation  in 
life,  some  grand  principle,  some  reality,  and,  holding  it 
tenaciously  before  him,  not  only  for  a  day  or  week,  but, 
as  dates  clearly  prove,  for  months  and  years,  slowly 
elaborates  a  consistent  and  complete  view.  It  is  very 
interesting  to  compare  the  hints  scattered  in  these  loose 
sheets  with  the  compact,  finished  form  in  which  ninny 
of  the  thoughts  finally  appeared  in  the  author's  pub- 
lished works.     One  gains   thereby  some   insight  of  the 


CONSCllCNTIOUSNESS.  147 

mode,  whereby  in  the  moral  as  in  th»»  natural  world 
gems  are  formed,  and  precious  metals  deposited  in  the 
rocks.  The  profound  conscientiousness,  patience,  ear 
nest  solemnity,  concentrated  strength,  unity  of  this  good 
man,  thus  become  apparent  ;  it  is  seen  how  weighty  to 
his  own  mind  was  the  meaning  of  his  words,  how  sedu- 
lously he  simphfied  the  statement  of  his  opinions,  how 
through  much  struggle  he  attained  to  calm,  even,  equa- 
ble utterance,  how  carefully  he  reserved  what  was  most 
fresh,  brilliant,  novel,  until  assured  of  its  substantial 
truth,  —  from  what  depth  of  experience  he  drew. 
From  beginning  to  end,  they  mark  the  process  by  which 
an  earth-born  creature  is  through  willing  faith  trans- 
figured into  an  image,  faint  though  it  be,  of  divine  dis- 
interestedness. In  the  fragments  which  we  select, 
suggestions  as  to  the  ministerial  profession,  the  special 
calls  of  the  times,  his  relations  to  his  people,  and  his 
own  peculiar  duties,  are  so  intermingled,  that  it  would 
be  useless  to  attempt  to  cast  them  anew  into  any  formal 
mould.  Evidently,  to  his  own  mind,  his  outward  life  and 
his  inward  thoughts  were  one. 

"■  I  should  desire  that  knowledge  which  will  conduce  most 
to  the  salvation  of  my  people.  This  sentiment  is  most  fa- 
vorable to  enlarged  views,  and  free  and  vigorous  action  of 
mind.  A  general  loftiness  of  sentiment,  independence  on 
men,  consciousness  of  good  intentions,  self-oblivion  in  great 
objects,  clear  views  of  futurity,  thoughts  of  the  blessed  com- 
panionship with  saints  and  angels,  trust  in  God,  as  the  friend 
of  truth  and  virtue,  —  these  are  the  states  of  mind  in  which 
I  should  live." 

"  Let  me  be  very  definite  in  the  ends  which  I  propose, 
when  I  converse,  write,  or  preach,  and  let  me  keep  them  in 
view,  and  press  forward  to  them.     Let  me  appeal  to  God 


148  MIDDLE-AUK     MIXISTRY. 

for  the  truth  and  importance  of  every  sentunent,  and  for  my 
own  shicere  conviction,  and  my  desire  to  impress  it.  Let 
me  write  with  prayer,  as  on  my  knees,  sensible  of  my  de- 
pendence on  the  Divine  Spirit  for  eveiy  good  exercise, 
every  right  aim,  every  disinterested  affection.  Let  me  be 
satisfied  with  plain,  serious,  important  truth,  expressed  per- 
spicuously," 

"  Let  me  purpose,  before  I  begin  to  write,  some  definite, 
serious  impression  which  I  wish  to  make,  and  pray  for  di- 
rection and  sincerity.  Let  me  lead  a  whole  life  of  relig- 
ion, humility,  faith,  devotion ;  for  unless  there  be  this  gen- 
eral frame  of  character,  no  particular  acts  will  be  relig- 
ious in  spirit.  The  heart  is  always  active,  and  builds  up 
unawares  the  discourse  of  the  speaker,  turns  his  thoughts, 
fashions  his  expression.  Let  me  in  writing  and  reviewing 
hold  intercourse  with  God,  refer  every  word  to  his  appro- 
bation, and  consider  whether  I  bear  his  message." 

"  Let  me  cultivate  love,  be  continually  setting  before  my 
mind  views  which  will  lead  to  disinterestedness,  be  continu- 
ally engaged  in  some  definite  benevolent  object.  Let  me 
labor  through  the  week  to  keep  alive  a  devotional  sentiment, 
which  may  thus  show  itself  unforced,  and  communicate 
itself  to  others  on  the  Sabbalh." 

"  Is  my  preaching  attended  with  encouraging  results  ? 
Do  my  people  come  to  hear  me  to  be  pleased,  or  to  be 
made  better  }  Are  they  not  rather  attached  to  the  man, 
than  to  the  cause  ?  Let  me  be  more  plain,  urgent,  impor- 
tunate, tender.  I  am  more  and  more  sensible  to  the  im- 
portance of  an  earnest,  unaffected  manner.  I  sliould  lead 
my  hearers  home  to  their  own  hearts  and  lives,  and  preach 
searching  sermons.  I  am  not  plain  and  forcible  enough. 
I  appeal  too  much  to  the  ingenuous  feelings.  Men  need 
also  solemn,  stern  warnings.  Religion  must  be  presented 
to  them  as  the  end  of  life,  the  grand  reality.  Let  me  begin 
to  write  early  enough  in  the  week,  so  that  I  may  throw  my 


TRUE    SPIRIT    FOR    THE    MINISTER.  14^ 

whole  soul  into  the  close  of  my  sermons.  My^vork  should 
be  all  in  all.  I  should  viHt  my  people  more  freely,  become 
a  member  of  their  families,  know  them,  be  known  by  them, 
win  their  confidence.  The  sight  of  every  parishioner,  and 
indeed  of  every  human  being,  should  be  accompanied  with 
the  thought  of  the  grandeur  of  a  human  soul,  of  the  beauty, 
excellence,  happiness  to  which  every  soul  may  attain,  and 
the  degradation  and  misery  into  which  it  may  fall." 

"  A  minister  should  feel  that  he  is  dispensing  the  truths 
of  a  religion  introduced  by  a  long  line  of  prophets,  sealed 
by  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  designed  to  conduct  men  to  all 
glory  and  excellence,  to  introduce  a  stupendous  change  in 
human  affairs,  to  fill  earth  with  the  happiness  of  heaven. 
The  idea  of  this  grand  change  should  be  ever  present  to 
him.  Nothing  low  should  content  him.  To  inspire  ele- 
vated, disinterested  piety  should  be  his  aim.  He  should 
fll  his  mind  with  the  thought  that  man  is  destined  to  be- 
come the  glorious  image  of  God.  He  should  live  in  a 
region  of  hope,  he  is  to  be  distinguished  by  grandeur  of 
aim,  he  should  rise  above  human  opinion  and  every  influ- 
ence- which  now  bows  down  the  faculties  with  solicitude, 
despondency,  agitation,  fear.  Zeal  to  advance  the  great 
felicity  to  which  Christ  came  to  raise  all  men  should  ani- 
mate him  for  ever.  He  should  never  think  of  rest,  till  this 
sublime  end  is  accomplished.  His  whole  intercourse  should 
tend  to  exalt  and  animate  men's  conceptions  and  desires. 
All  his  influence  should  terminate  in  this  central  point,  — 
that  Christ  came  to  call  us  to  a  true  regeneration,  to  a  celes- 
tial virtue  ;  that  much,  very  much,  is  to  be  sought,  is  to  be 
gained.  A  diffusive  philanthropy  should  be  his  habitual 
temper.  He  should  view  his  people  as  a  part  of  mankind 
specially  intrusted  to  him,  whom  he  is  to  arouse  to  co- 
operation in  the  great  common  work  of  promoting  holiness 
and  happiness  throughout  the  earth.  He  must  be  warm, 
bold,  eflicient.  The  ends  before  him  are  infinite." 
13* 


150  MI])DLE-AGE    MIMSTKY. 

"  Good  preaching  never  enraptures  an  audience  by  beau- 
ties of  style,  elocution,  or  gesture.  An  easy,  unbalanced, 
unlabored  style  should  be  the  common  mode  of  expression. 
This  will  give  relief  and  prominence  to  more  important 
parts,  and  insure  variety.  Composition  should  resemble 
nature.  Dazzling  objects  soon  fatigue  the  eye.  Simple 
truth,  in  plain,  perspicuous  words,  should  form  the  body  of 
the  discourse,  and  all  appeals  of  peculiarly  solemnizing, 
melting,  invigorating  character  should  be  introduced  in  the 
way  of  transition.  By  simple  truth  staleness  and  tamcness 
are  not  meant,  for  there  should  always  be  richness  of 
thought.  A  sermon  should  never  be  a  barren  sand-level 
of  commonplaces,  but  a  fresh,  fertile  field,  verdant  and  well 
watered.  In  style,  as  in  music,  there  should  be  a  key, 
which  should  change  with  the  topic.  Let  clearness,  dignity, 
unstrained  vigor,  elevation  without  turgidness,  purity  with- 
out primness,  pathos  without  whining,  characterize  my 
style.  Let  me  study  to  be  fdled  with  the  spirit  of  the  truth 
I  am  to  utter,  and  I  shall  speak  as  I  ought.  A  slow,  distinct, 
and  rather  low  enunciation  should  form  the  ground  of  de- 
livery. It  is  better  to  require  exertion  on  the  part  of  the 
hearer,  than  to  stun  him  with  clamor." 

"  That  is  the  best  preaching,  which  leads  the  audience  to 
lose  sight  of  the  speaker  in  the  sublimhy  of  his  themes, 
when  the  words  and  tones  are  forgotten,  and  the  minds  of 
all  are  awakened  to  the  contemplation  of  grand  realities.  .  I 
wish  to  bring  the  kingdom  of  heaven  near  to  men,  to  per- 
suade them  to  lead  devoted,  pure,  loving  lives.  How  shall 
I  thus  persuade  them  }  Not  by  violence,  irritation,  self- 
exaltation,  enthusiasm,  excess,  —  not  by  prejudicing  my 
hearers  against  me  as  a  fanatic,  and  e.xciting  their  oppo- 
sition,—  but  by  manifesting  a  calm,  kind,  humble,  sincere, 
dispassionate  state  of  heart,  with  clear  views  and  direct 
purposes.  Let  me  preach  the  whole  truth  plainly,  ear- 
nestly, tenderly,  but  with  self-possession.     We  should  labor 


PULPIT    ELOQUENCE.  151 

fo  undeceive  men,  who  are  deluded  by  selfijove  and  by- 
fashion,  satisfied  by  a  hollow  outside,  decency  of  manners, 
ensnared  by  subtle  temptations,  and  make  them  feel  to  the 
quick  the  need  of  a  radical  change,  of  integrity,  purity, 
heavenly-mindedness.  To  do  this,  we  must  have  the  povver 
to  search  the  heart.  We  must  be  at  once  full  of  feeling, 
argumentative,  comprehensive,  particular.  I  ought  to  make 
every  sermon  practical  by  applying  it  to  my  own  state  in 
a  continuous  process  of  self-examination.  Permanent  im- 
pression is  the  test  of  good  preaching.  Hence  individuality 
united  with  large  principles  is  an  essential  requisite  in  a 
good  sermon.  Every  hearer  should  feel  that  he  is  imme- 
diately interested  in  the  truths  which  are  taught,  that  then 
and  there  they  apply  directly  to  him.'" 

"  That  which  is  often  called  puJpit  eloquence  is  a  mode 
of  address  calculated  chiefly  to  warm  the  imagination  and 
agitate  the  passions.  But  in  preaching,  the  true  end  is  not 
so  much  to  produce  some  sudden  effect,  as  to  make  impres- 
sions which  will  abide  through  life,  to  plant  seeds  which 
shall  grow  and  ripen  for  ever.  An  impulse  communicated 
to  a  popular  assembly  is  short-lived.  No  change  of  char- 
acter is  produced  by  it.  A  preacher  who  habitually  adopts 
this  so-called  eloquent  manner  may  be  a  boast  to  his 
people  and  a  wonder  to  strangers,  but  his  real  influence 
will  be  constantly  lessening.  He  will  be  heard,  admired, 
criticized,  as  an  actor  is,  for  the  excitement  he  causes. 
And  as  he  has  not  the  advantage  of  a  political  declaimer, 
who  can  find  ready  stimulants  for  his  audience  in  the  na- 
tional and  local  topic  of  the  day,  he  will  be  forced  to  seek 
his  charm  in  brilliant  ornament  and  striking  delivery,  and 
will  finally  fall  into  verboseness,  affectation,  puerility,  mys- 
ticism, extravagance.  On  the  other  hand,  a  preacher  who 
wishes  to  interest  his  people  for  life  must  attract  and  fasten 
their  regards  upon  the  sacred  subjects  which  he  brings 
before  them,  and  i  ->t  upon  his  manner.     He  must  awakea 


152  MIDDLE-AGK    JIIMSTKY. 

in  them  a  love  of  truth,  of  religiQii^  instruction,  of  spiritual 
improvement,  of  holiness.  Then  will  their  attention  be  un- 
wearied and  ever  deepenmg.  A  minister  who  is  listened  to, 
at  the  very  time  when  he  has  conspicuous  defects  in  style 
and  elocution,  has  a  much  fairer  prospect  of  usefulness  than 
many  a  brilliant  orator,  whom  a  congregation  first  hear  with 
rapture,  and  then  grow  cold  to.  Attention,  deep  attention, 
is  what  is  wanted  in  an  audience  ;  and  the  mode  to  excite 
it  and  keep  it  alive  is  to  present  great  truths  which  fill  their 
minds,  and  motives  which  inwardly  prompt  them  to  vigorous 
and  constant  action.  A  minister  must  himself,  then,  be 
engaged,  alive,  absorbed  in  great  interests,  profoundly  con- 
vinced of  the  infinite  importance  of  receiving  Divine  truth, 
and  manifesting  it  in  his  whole  life." 

"  I  must  urge  that  repentance  which  consists  in  realizing 
the  entire  obligation  of  the  law  of  right,  in  feehng  bound  to 
render  perfect  obedience,  in  regarding  all  sin  as  inexcus- 
able, in  longing  for  a  total  deliverance  from  evil.  iMeu 
must  be  made  to  abhor  their  sins,  to  be  prostrated  before 
the  long-suffering  benignity  of  God,  to  be  humbled,  melted, 
filled  with  shame  at  the  thought  of  disobeying  such  an 
infinitely  wise  as  well  as  merciful  Being.  It  is  important 
to  set  forth  the  law  of  God  in  all  its  sanctity,  largeness, 
strictness,  beauty,  glory.  It  must  be  shown  that  the  only 
satisfaction,  peace,  joy  is  in  being  conformed  by  Divine 
love  to  the  image  of  God.  This  must  be  urged  until  men 
see  and  feel  that  all  selfishness  is  a  miserable,  hopeless 
exile,  till  they  love  spiritual  life  as  it  is  in  God  and  an- 
gels, as  the  highest  good,  to  be  joyfully  chosen  above  all 
things." 

"  When  I  propose  a  subject  for  a  discourse,  the  question 
should  be,  How  can  I  bring  my  mind  into  the  state  most 
favorable  to  clear  understanding,  deep  impression,  strong 
representation  of  it  ?  But  I  sbould  not  labor  while  I  write, 
nor  work   myself  up  into  a  fever  inconsistent  with  calm, 


TKUE    ELOQUENCE.  ]53 

humble  dependence  upon  tlie  Divine  Spirit,  aiyj  tlioughtful, 
affectionate  regard  for  those  whom  I  am  to  address.     There 
should  be  nothing  strained  or  excessive,  while  seeking  to 
place  a  subject  in  a  light  which  will  bring  out  new  connec- 
tions, and  array  it  in  attractive   beauty.     My  whole  mode 
of  life  should  be  a  preparation  for  treating  interesting  themes 
in  a  fresh  and  animating  way.     In  choosing  a  topic  I  should 
first  view  it  in  its  connections,  relations,  position,  as  com- 
pared with  other  truths.     I  should  then  let  it  expand  fully 
hi  my  mind  into  all  its  branches  and  applications.     From 
among  these  I  should   select  the  views  most  suited  to  the 
special  end    I   have  before   me.     Next,  I  should   consider 
carefully  the  }^t  method  of  arrangement ;  and  in  treating 
every  head,  my  mind  should  be  active  to  unfold  the  general 
thoughts  involved  in  it  in  their  relations  to  the  main  subject 
of  the  discourse.     Every  passage   should  be  tested   by  its 
tendency  to  advance  the  end  proposed.     During  the  whole 
composition,  I  should  be  elevated  by  the  greatness  of  truth, 
an  ardent  love  of  excellence,  an  active  desire  for  the  purity 
and  salvation  of  man,  a  glowing  piety,  a  conscious  com- 
munion with  God." 

"  In  the  regular  course  of  the  ministry,  we  have  most  to 
fear  from  mechanical  sluggishness.  Monotonous  tameness 
is  the  sand-bar  on  which  so  many  are  stranded.  The  safety 
is  in  keeping  the  heart  ever  alive.  The  preacher  must 
draw  from  his  own  full  experience;  he  must  never  write  as 
if  writing  was  his  business.  The  wish  to  be  correct  and 
elegant  should  never  enter  his  thoughts.  He  has  to  pen- 
etrate men  with  great  convictions.  The  Greeks  wrote  well, 
because  the  whole  world  of  thought  lay  fresh  and  untouched 
before  them.  This  should  teach  us  not  to  form  ourselves  on 
models,  not  to  use  materials  furnished  by  others,  but  to  be 
enterprising  in  the  exercise  of  our  own  minds,  and  in  ex- 
ploring the  great  sources  of  truth,  —  nature,  man,  revelation. 
There   is  a  free,  bold,  vigorous  tone  of  thought,  the  easy 


154  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

action  of  a  generous  spirit,  which  is  most  desirable  for  every 
one  to  attain.  All  timidity  of  character,  excessive  accuracy, 
anxious  observance  of  rules,  desire  to  finish  minute  parts, 
love  of  glitter  and  polish,  fondness  of  conceits,  is  fatal  to 
this  freedom.  It  is  the  natural  movement  of  a  sincere, 
ardent,  independent  mind.  The  preacher  should  never  give 
his  hearers  leisure  to  admire  ;  he  should  never  permit  them 
to  doze.  He  should  write  with  the  ardor  of  strong  convic- 
tion, trust  himself  to  the  flow  of  thoughts,  and  be  uncon- 
strained and  unreserved." 

"  True  eloquence  springs  from  living  perception  of  the 
truth,  and  from  intimate  communion  with  the  hearts  of  men. 
We  must  not  lean  on  opinion,  must  not  fea^ie  judgment 
of  hearers.  Dependence  upon  an  audience  is  a  charmed 
circle  which  represses  all  generous  thought.  Love  of  truth 
sets  the  writer  free.  The  vigorous  character  of  composition 
depends  on  the  decision  with  which  the  mind  grasps  a  truth. 
Eloquence  is  to  be  attained  by  the  full  culture,  the  general 
enriching,  of  the  heart  and  mind.  An  enlarged  spirit,  which 
has  reached  grand  convictions,  will  utter  itself  with  a  com- 
manding style.  There  is  never  true  eloquence,  except 
when  great  principles  and  sentiments  have  entered  into  the 
.substance  of  the  soul,  and  become  incorporated  with  the 
whole  being.  The  way  to  be  eloquent  is  to  be  possessed 
with  truth.  Good  writing,  good  speaking,  is  that  which 
grows  directly  from  the  heart,  when  expression  becomes 
necessary  from  the  fulness  of  the  soul,  when  religion  is  a 
living  principle  within  us,  and  the  discourse  is  the  spontane- 
ous putting  forth  of  this  germinating  seed.  What  is  wanted 
is  genuine  feeling,  inward  ///e." 

"  One  truth  is  the  seed  of  other  truths.  It  is  sown  in  us 
to  bear  fruit,  not  to  lie  torpid.  The  power  of  mind,  by 
which  truth  becomes  prolific,  is  freedom.  Our  great  duty 
is  to  encourage  vigorous  action  of  mind.  The  greater  num- 
bm*  of  free  and  vigorous  minds  brought  to  bear  upon  a  sub- 


Liz::nA:.!TV.  155 

jecl,  the  more  truth  is  promoted.  Th.c  iwsest  gain  but 
gUmpses.  Nothing  is  seen  precisely  as  it  is,  in  all  its  ex- 
tent, by  any  one  mind.  Truth  even,  held  without  inquiry, 
fosters  a  temper  of  passive  acquiescence,  and  makes  the 
spirit  effeminate.  How  many  illuminations  of  celestial  ori- 
gin come  to  all  in  sincere  hours !  Are  these  inspirations  to 
be  subjected  to  the  authority  of  any  tribunal  ?  All  expres- 
sion of  toill  by  bodies  and  individuals  that  others  should 
think  as  they  do  is  tyranny.  Numbers  have  no  more  right 
than  a  single  person  to  enforce  doctrine.  They  are  each 
and  all  fallible,  and  are  bound  to  special  caution  lest  tiiey 
should  exert  an  influence  over  each  other  unfriendly  to 
impartiality.  A  community  so  bound  to  an  opinion  as  to 
abandon  a  man,  and  to  be  unjust  to  his  character,  who  ques- 
tions it,  is  a  persecutor,  as  much  as  if  it  used  legal  penalties. 
A  community  should  cherish  liberality  as  it  does  industry, 
for  truth  is  the  food  of  the  soul." 

"  We  should  multiply  our  connections  with  other  minds 
in  order  that  we  may  receive  and  communicate  more 
largely.  The  liberal  mind  distinguishes  the  essential  from 
the  accidental,  the  spirit  from  the  form,  rises  to  general 
truths  and  detaches  them  from  particulars,  discerns  un- 
changeable goodness  amidst  all  its  transient  manifestations, 
separates  between  the  end  of  human  nature  and  the  means 
of  its  development,  between  the  temporary  arrangement  of 
Providence  and  its  everlasting  objects,  and  judges  charac- 
ter, nations,  events,  opinions,  measures,  according  to  these 
broad  views.  This  is  the  noblest  exercise  of  thought. 
Narrow  minds  take  things  in  mass,  confound  the  local  with 
the  universal,  the  accidental  with  the  essential,  and  spend 
their  strength  in  contending  for  what  is  secondary,  while 
they  alienate  themselves  from  their  brethren,  with  whom 
they  fundamentally  agree,  on  the  ground  of  circumstan- 
tial differences.  There  is  a  generous  way  of  looking  at 
all   subjects,  —  totally    opposed    to    the  technical,  the  pro- 


156  MIDDT-E-AGE    JIirvISTRY. 

fessional,  the  sectional,  the  sectarian,  —  a  magnanimous 
style  of  thought  and  feeling,  by  which  we  cast  aside  the 
party  connections  which  warp  and  straighten  us,  the  bribes 
and  lures  of  applause  and  public  sentiment,  and  view  all 
things  in  their  relations  to  mankind  at  large,  and  the  move- 
ment of  God's  grand  designs." 

"  My  object  should  be  to  contribute  to  that  great  work 
which  God  is  promoting  in  the  world.  Every  faithful  eflbrt 
has  its  influence.  Let  me  never  despair.  Local,  temporary 
objects  should  be  comparatively  unimportant.  An  expanded 
interest  in  humanity  should  govern  me.  I  am  connected 
with  the  Church  Universal,  with  all  future  ages ;  and  let  no 
devotion  to  a  party  lead  me  for  an  instant  to  overlook  its 
defects,  or  to  forget  the  high  claims  of  truth  and  right. 
The  religion  which  is  to  open  heaven  in  the  human  heart 
is  as  far  away  from  lieated  bigotry,  as  from  the  lowness  of 
a  worldly  temper.  To  breathe  warmth  into  the  cold,  gen- 
erous piety  into  the  abject  and.  servile,  honorable  views  of 
God  and  man  into  the  dejected,  timid,  and  superstitious, 
should  be  my  end.  Let  me  live  to  exhibit  the  paternal 
character  of  God,  the  quickening  influence  of  his  spirit,  his 
willingness  to  raise  us  to  perfection,  the  glorious  capacities 
and  destination  of  man,  the  filial  nature  of  religion,  the 
beauty  of  benevolence,  of  self-denial  and  suflering  in  a 
generous  cause,  the  union  formed  by  a  spirit  of  humanity 
between  God  and  the  soul,  the  joy  of  high  moral  sentiment, 
the  possibility  of  attaining  to  sublime  greatness  of  character 
and  habitual  largeness  of  sentiment  and  action.  Men  are  to 
be  regenerated  not  so  much  by  a  sense  of  the  blessedness 
of  goodness  in  the  abstract,  as  by  coming  to  understand  that 
disinterestedness,  that  union  with  God  and  his  whole  spir- 
itual family,  in  which  goodness  consists.  The  glory  and 
nobleness  of  a  soul  self-surrendered  to  God,  joined  to  him  in 
purposes  of  beneficence,  swallowed  up  in  a  pure,  overflow- 
ing love,  must  be  made  manifest." 


A    RELIGIOUS    CHARACTER.  157 

"It  is  essential  in  a  minister,  that  liis  mij^d  s' ould  be 
habitually  under  religious  influences,  so  that  his  whole  char- 
acter and  life  shall  difTuse  an  animating  spiritual  power. 
All  should  feel  that  liis  soul  is  in  communion  with  God,  that 
he  lives  under  the  guidance  of  Ilis  will,  and  by  His  spiritual 
influences.  He  should  unite  with  devotional  fervor  an  har- 
monious, full  development  of  human  nature.  His  end  is 
to  flash  upon  the  dormant  minds  of  men  a  consciousness  r'f 
the  Divine  life,  to  touch  the  spring  of  spiritual  allection. 
He  should  enable  them  to  see  how  religion  works  within  his 
own  soul,  he  should  make  his  own  mind  visible,  and  show 
religious  truth,  not  abstractly,  but  warm  and  living,  clothed 
with  the  light  and  glow  of  his  own  conscious  experience. 
Let  the  perfection  of  the  Christian  life,  its  high,  holy,  hu- 
mane spirit,  its  communion  with  God,  its  elevation,  dis- 
interestedness, hope,  joy,  be  my  habitual  state,  so  that  in 
all  my  thoughts,  actions,  studies,  I  may  be  a  guide  to  my 
people." 

"  Unity  of  impression  should  be  an  object  to  a  minister. 
He  should  not  undo  one  day  the  work  of  another.  All  his 
mstructions  should  have  a  common  bearing,  and  this  implies 
enlarged  views  of  religion.  He  must  not  waste  the  zeal  of 
men  on  points  of  secondary  importance.  His  efforts  should 
be  systematic,  not  desultory,  and  be  governed,  not  by  sudden 
impressions,  but  by  extensive  plans.  His  whole  life  and 
influence  should  have  one  tendency.  Nothing  demands 
such  lucidness,  breadth,  depth,  completeness,  harmony  of 
exposition,  as  the  religious  life.  Foundations  must  be  plant- 
ed firmly.  Seeds  of  great,  enduring,  ever-growing  princi- 
ples must  be  sown.  People  are  injured  and  made  dull  and 
disproportioned  by  laying  excessive  stress  upon  every  point. 
Preaching  should  call  into  action  the  whole  spiritual  being 
of  hearers.  It  should  not  address  one  faculty  only,  but 
manifest  religion  to  the  reason,  conscience,  imagination, 
heart.     A  minister  should  strive  to  unfold  harmoniously  the 

VOL.    II.  14 


153  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

souls  of  his  people,  just  as  he  sees  Providence  unfold  the 
body  in  a  plant  or  animal.  His  whole  inward  life  should 
be  brought  into  activity.  His  preaching  and  intercourse 
with  men  should  be  the  result  of  a  joint  and  vigorous  co- 
operation of  all  his  spiritual  powers,  quickened  by  a  Divine 
influence.  To  excite  to  universal  growth  should  be  his 
end." 

"  In  proportion  to  the  difficulty  of  the  times  should  be  my 
desire  to  exhibit  solemn  and  ennobling  views.  The  long 
religious  torpor  which  has  rested  on  the  world  has  pre- 
pared men  for  an  opposite  excess.  Religious  sensibility  is 
an  essential  element  in  man,  and,  however  smothered  for  a 
time,  it  must  and  will  break  forth  again  with  power.  Is  it 
not  the  error  of  those  who  oppose  the  prevalent  systems  of 
Orthodoxy,  that  they  do  not  substitute  interesting  views  for 
those  which  they  would  remove  ?  They  insist  that  Christ 
came  to  restore  human  nature,  that  moral  good  is  his  end. 
But  do  they  present  this  end  in  its  dignity  and  grandeur  .'' 
Must  we  not  strongly  conceive  and  represent  the  glorious 
change  which  he  came  to  bring  in  men  and  nations  ?  A 
divine  life,  a  heavenly  life,  this  is  the  end  for  which  he 
came.  In  exhibiting  religion  as  this  universal  regeneration 
of  all  human  interests,  the  present  degradation  of  society 
must  be  exposed.  Here  is  the  need  of  earnest  remon- 
strance. Great  explicitness,  fearlessness,  is  demanded. 
Jesus  Christ  must  be  taken  as  the  standard  and  rule  ;  the 
highest,  purest  principles  of  his  religion  must  be  plainly 
proposed  as  the  guide  to  individual  and  social  practice. 
The  world  waits  for  a  new  exhibition  of  Christianity  in  all 
its  sublime  encouragements,  its  solemn  warnings,  its  glorious 
assurances.  With  what  entire  devotedness  should  I  conse- 
crate myself  to  this  great  end  !  " 

"  Let  it  be  my  object  to  conceive  and  express  the  gospel 
worthily,  in  life  and  word  to  exhibit  the  religion  of  Christ 
in  its  purity,  its  sublimity,  its  divine  beauty.     Let  it  be  my 


THE    END    OF    THE    MINISTRY.  159 

desire  to  raise  men's  thoughts  to  the  great  ciid-  of  the  being 
and  mission  of  Christ,  to  show  tlie  exaUed,  perfected,  heav- 
enly state  of  man  which  he  came  to  introduce,  to  exhibit  the 
glorious  relations  into  which  he  desires  to  bring  us.  Let  it 
be  my  aim  to  raise  to  this  lofty  height  the  moral  sensibility, 
the  ambition,  the  aspirations,  the  generosity  of  men,  to  ani- 
mate them  to  see  brightly  and  vividly  this  grand  destiny 
which  opens  before  them,  to  carry  their  thoughts  forward  to 
the  future  greatness  of  virtuous  humanity,  to  shed  the  light 
of  heaven  on  their  nature  and  present  state.  The  end  to 
be  set  before  them  is  a  thirst  for  nearness  to  God,  love  of 
him,  bright  views  of  him,  sympathy  with  him,  desire  of  his 
friendship,  disinterested  self-surrender  to  his  designs,  heav- 
enly goodness,  heavenly  joy,  conformity  to  the  spirit  of  his 
beloved  Son,  —  a  perfect  oneness,  in  a  word,  with  the 
Heavenly  Father.  May  not  this  exhibition  of  Christianity, 
as  an  all-ennobling  system  of  Divine  influences,  be  the 
one  great  end  to  which  my  life  and  labors  may  tend  ?  " 

"1  have  often  been  inclined  to  think  that  my  own  science, 
that  of  ethics  and  theology,  comprehended  all  others. 
Something  specious,  certainly,  might  be  said  to  show  that  it 
is  the  only  true  medical  science,  and  that  they  who  operate 
most  successfully  on  the  mind  are  best  entitled  to  the  name 
of  physicians.'" 

"I  know  not  who  is  now  filling  my  place  in  my  pulpit. 
How  should  I  rejoice  to  learn  that  some  one  \vas  making 
deeper  impressions  there  than  I  have  ever  made  !  I  am  far 
from  looking  back  with  much  satisfaction  on  my  labors.  I 
can  say  with  the  old  Roman,  '  Of  honor  I  have  had  enough' ; 
but  how  cheerfully  would  I  give  up  all  the  pleasures  of 
distinction  for  the  joy  of  witnessing  more  of  that  piety 
among  my  people,  which  gives  praise,  not  to  the  poor  in- 
strument, but  to  '•Him  of  whom  are  all  things'  !  " 

"  Let  us  not  linger  at  the  threshold  of  Christianity  ;  con- 
duct us  into  its  inmost  depths  of  life.     Help  us  to  break 


160  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

through  the  obstacles,  the  doubts,  despondency,  lethargy 
weakness,  which  hinder  us  Open  in  us  an  unquencliable 
aspiration  for  truth  and  virtue.  Give  us  a  spirit  of  rational, 
filial,  strong,  unreserved,  triumphant,  glad  obedience.  Give 
us  perfect  confidence  in  Thee,  whose  laws  arc  the  dictates 
of  fatherly  wisdom  and  love,  and  who  dost  delight  in  the 
purity  and  glory  of  thy  children.  Dispose  us  to  see  thy 
goodness  everywhere,  not  only  when  descending  upon  us, 
but  when  diffused  abroad,  so  that  we  may  discern  the  love 
which  pervades  the  universe  and  quickens  all  spirits. 

"  Make  us  sensible  of  our  inwai'd  wants,  indigence,  desti- 
tution, weakness.  Lay  open  to  us  our  corrupt  motives. 
Expose  to  us  our  hidden  vices  in  all  their  deformity.  Teach 
us  to  look  steadily  into  ourselves,  till  we  shall  see  with 
something  of  thine  own  abhorrence  every  evil  aflection. 
Lead  us  away  from  false  resources  to  a  sure  dependence  on 
thy  perfect  will,  and  may  this  reign  supreme  within  us. 
Help  us  to  look  through  the  disguises  of  self-love,  to  judge 
ourselves  truly,  to  anticipate  the  revelations  of  the  last  day ; 
and  let  not  this  knowledge  of  our  deficiencies  and  deformi- 
ties fill  us  with  dejection,  but  rather  endear  to  us  thy  mercy, 
and  lead  us  to  thy  grace,  while  rousing  us  to  vigilance 
and  to  firm  and  faithful  conflict  with  every  irregular  de- 
sire. 

"  Dispose  us  to  a  sincere  sympathy  with  all  men,  not 
only  to  see  extraordinary  excellence  with  joy,  but  to  take 
pleasure  in  the  humblest  improvements  of  our  fellow- 
creatures,  in  the  beginning  of  everlasting  life  within  them. 
Incline  us  to  respect  the  feelings  of  others,  so  that  we  may 
never  wound,  nor  tempt,  nor  depress  a  human  being.  May 
we  understand  the  sublime  heights  of  benevolence  to  which 
we  are  called  by  the  gospel,  and  aim  at  perfection  in  all 
social  relations.  Assist  us  to  express  with  power  and  un- 
afiected  simplicity  the  beauty  of  virtue,  so  that  we  may 
attract  all  around  us  to  the  heavenly  life.     Inspire  us  with 


DEVOUTNESS.  161 

an  active,  diffusive  beneficence,  and  may  \v|^liave  the  wit- 
nesses of  our  good-will  in  the  improved  virtues  and  happi- 
ness  of  our  friends,  associates,  and  all  within  the  sphere  of 
our  influence.  Affect  our  hearts  with  the  loveliness,  beauty, 
and  joy  of  that  mild,  condescending,  affectionate  spirit 
which  our  Master  breathed,  and  may  we  imbibe  it  till  our 
lives  overflow  with  usefulness  and  bounty.  Assist  us  in 
enlarging  our  benevolence,  in  diffusing  our  affections,  so 
that  we  may  embrace  in  kind  regards  all  beings  capable  of 
happiness;  and  give  us  wisdom  to  design  and  vigor  to  exe- 
cute noble  and  extensive  schemes  of  public  and  private 
good.  May  we  learn  to  lose  ourselves  in  disinterested  ser- 
vices, from  generous  ardor,  and  to  delight  in  imitating  thee, 
and  in  promoting  the  great  ends  of  thy  providence,  and  the 
blessedness  of  creation. 

"  We  pray  for  the  fulness  of  thy  spirit.  We  beseech 
thee  to  animate  with  new  life  our  languid  affections.  Give 
us  the  fervor  of  devotion,  the  glow  of  philanthropy.  Awaken 
us  to  a  holy  zeal,  a  joy  in  thy  service,  a  promptness  to  da 
and  to  suffer  whatever  thou  dost  appoint.  May  the  labors 
of  life  become  acts  of  religion  and  offerings  to  thee,  by  the 
conscientiousness,  purity  of  motive,  and  devotedness  to  thy. 
will  of  perfect  good,  from  which  they  are  performed.  May. 
our  sense  of  thy  presence  be  ever  more  clear,  our  concep- 
tions of  thy  character  more  bright,  our  gratitude  more 
tender,  our  love  of  exalted  virtue  more  generous,  our  good- 
will more  overflowing.  May  a  Divine  life  be  ever  growing 
within  us." 

This  series  of  autobiographical  papers  cannot  be  more 
satisfactorily  closed  than  by  the  following  extracts  from 
a  discourse  in  which  he  thus  sums  up  the  results  of  hi? 
ministerial  experience. 

May  26,  1822.  "  In  reviewing  the  past,  I  cannot  re- 
fjoach  myself  with  much  indolence.  The  spirit  of  the 
14* 


162  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

times  has  compelled  me  to  think  anxiously  and  laboriously 
on  the  subject  of  religion.  Holding  sentiments  which  are 
often  decried  as  perilous,  I  have  felt  myself  bound  to  exam- 
ine them  with  care.  In  this  respect  a  conscientious  minis- 
ter's lot  is  more  difficult  than  formerly.  There  have  been 
times  when  one  generation  received  implicitly  the  faith  of 
the  preceding.  The  ministry  then  imposed  a  light  task  en 
the  intellect.  But  times  are  changed,  nor  can  we  for  a 
moment  complain  that  heavier  work  is  now  exacted  ;  for  a 
chain  on  the  mind  is  the  worst  slavery,  and  the  searching 
for  ourselves,  and  on  our  own  responsibility,  into  God's 
truth,  however  exhausting,  is  among  our  most  improving 
labors.  And  here  I  am  not  conscious  of  remissness.  On 
the  contrary,  my  exertions  —  though  to  men  of  firmer  con- 
stitution they  would  have  been  moderate  and  light  —  have 
to  me  been  often  excessive,  and  have  particularly  unfitted 
me  for  a  branch  of  duty,  which,  however  important,  I  have 
thought  myself  bound  to  postpone  to  the  former,  but  which, 
if  strengthened,  I  hope  yet  to  fulfil.  I  mean  pastoral  visit- 
ing  

"  I  have  had  a  growing  conviction  that  the  ministry  is 
needed  in  countries  where  Christianity  is  established,  not  so 
much  to  communicate  neio  truths,  as  to  quicken  the  truths 
which  lie  dead  in  the  multitude  ;  and  that  the  qualification 
of  a  minister  on  which  usefulness  chiefly  depends  is,  that 
he  should  speak  of  religion  from  deep  conviction,  with  life 
and  power,  with  afl^ectionate  interest,  with  a  soul  possessed 
and  kindled  by  the  truth,  —  that  he  should  inculcate  religion, 
not  as  a  tradition  lodged  passively  in  the  intellect,  but  as  a 
reality  of  which  he  has  the  same  living  persuasion  as  of  the 
most  affecting  interests  of  the  present  state.  When  I  con- 
sider the  earnestness  and  devotion  demanded  by  such  a 
cause  as  Christianity,  1  feel  most  thoroughly  my  imperfec- 
tions, and  pray  God  that  I  may  live  to  preach  with  a  fresh 
experience  of  its  power 


REVIEW    OF    HIS    MINISTRY,  163 

"  In  reviewing  my  preaching,  I  cannot  hope  that  I  have 
taught  you  truth  unmixed  with  error,  but  I  have  a  calm  and 
cheerful  conviction  that  I  have  taught  the  great  and  essen- 
tial principles  of  our  religion.  I  have  particularly  labored 
to  set  before  you  a  just  view  of  God's  all-benignant  charac- 
ter, as  the  spring  and  motive  of  filial  love  and  affectionate 
obedience.  In  regard  to  Jesus  Christ,  I  have  continually 
labored  to  impress  you  with  the  proofs  of  his  Divine  mission, 
Ihe  venerableness  and  loveliness  of  his  spirit,  the  excellence 
of  his  religion,  the  benevolent  pvn-poses  of  his  life  and 
death,  and  your  personal  need  of  the  aids  which  his  gospel 
of  grace  and  mercy  gives 

"  In  regard  to  the  person  or  rank  of  Christ,  you  well 
know  that  a  controversy  has  prevailed  during  my  ministry, 
in  which  every  minister  has  been  compelled  to  take  a  part. 
My  views  on  this  subject  have  varied  but  little  since  my 
first  connection  with  you,  and  have  been  made  known  to 
you  with  entire  frankness.  The  great  fundamental  principle 
of  Christian  belief  is,  that  Jesus  Christ  was  anointed,  sent, 
commissioned  by  God,  that  he  derived  all  his  authority  and 
offices  and  power  from  God,  so  that  God  who  sent  him  is 
always  to  be  adored  as  the  first  cause,  the  original,  of  what- 
ever Christ  communicates,  and  is  to  be  our  ultimate  hope 
and  confidence.  I  know  nothing  which  appears  to  be  more 
plainly  a  departure  from  this  fundamental  principle  of  Chris- 
tian belief  than  the  doctrine  that  Christ  is  God  himself, 
squally  entitled  with  the  Father  who  sent  him  to  the  glory 
of  originating  our  redemption,  equally  saving  us  by  his  own 
underived,  infinite  power.  To  teach  this  is  to  resist  the 
current  of  Scripture  language  and  Scripture  precepts,  to 
■withstand  Christ's  great  purpose,  which  was  to  glorify  his 
Father,  and  to  shake  the  fundamental  principle  of  natural 
as  well  as  revealed  religion,  the  Unity  of  God. 

"  My  ministry  on  this  point  I  look  back  upon  with  un- 
mixed pleasure ;  nor  have  I  any  consciousness  of  having 


164  MIDDLE-AGE    MIA'ISTRY. 

thus  degraded  Jesus  Christ.  His  glory  consists  in  the  love 
with  which  God  regarded  him,  in  the  offices  with  which 
God  has  invested  him,  in  the  likeness  which  he  bears  to 
God's  purity  and  goodness,  —  not  in  being  God  himself; 
and  they  are  the  last  to  consult  Christ's  glory,  who,  instead 
of  making  him  the  brightest  representative  and  the  most  ex- 
alted minister  of  his  Father,  throw  a  mist  and  doubtfulness 
over  his  whole  nature,  by  making  him  the  same  being  with 
his  Father.  I  make  these  remarks  with  no  disposition  to 
bring  reproach  on  any  class  of  Christians  ;  for  I  would  not 
breathe  a  single  word  which  might  even  seem  to  be  un- 
kind. But  the  circumstances  of  my  ministry  compel  mc,  in 
reviewing  it,  to  refer  to  the  controversy  which  has  shaken 
this  church,  and  in  which  I  have  been  charged  with  con- 
ducting my  people  into  ruinous  error.  That  I  have  not 
erred  I  ought  not  to  affirm  with  the  decision  and  confidence 
too  common  in  controversy,  and  therefore  I  would  only  say 
that  I  have  inquired  earnestly,  and  that  inquiry  has  given 
me  a  calm,  stable  conviction  of  the  great  principle  that 
Jesus  Christ  is  a  distinct  being  from  God,  a  derived,  de- 
pendent being,  not  the  self-existent  and  infinite  Creator. 

"  Still,  I  have  not  been  accustomed  to  preach  Christ  as  a 
mere  man.  I  have  spoken  of  him  as  a  peculiar  being.  He 
existed  in  a  state  of  glory  before  his  birth.  Nor  was  his 
agency  for  our  salvation  confined  to  his  teaching,  and  exam- 
ple, and  suffering,  and  resurrection,  while  on  the  earth  ; 
but  he  is  now  a  glorified,  powerful  agent  in  human  affairs, 
our  friend,  benefactor,  intercessor,  and  strengthcuer,  and 
hereafter  he  will  be  our  judge.  These  views  I  have  urged, 
not  because  the  mere  belief  of  them  is  to  save,  but  bccaus(! 
they  have  seemed  to  me  fitted  to  create  a  more  earnest, 
affectionate,  reverent,  and  obedient  regard  to  Jesus  Christ, 
—  such  a  regard  as  will  lead  us  to  form  ourselves  upon  the 
model  of  his  precepts  and  example.  This,  this  is  the  essen- 
tial point,  and  he  who  is  faithful  here  has  a  saving  faith,  be 


CHARACTER  OF  HIS  PRIVATE  TAPERS,        165 

his  views  of  Jesus  whatever  they  may.  The  <^'eatest  and 
most  dangerous  error  of  the  age  is  the  substitution  of  opin- 
ion, speculation,  controversy,  of  nois.e  and  bustle  about  re- 
ligion, for  the  practice  of  Christ's  precepts,  especially  of 
those  precepts  which  peculiarly  characterize  his  religion,  — 
filial  love  towards  God,  and  self-denying,  all-forgiving,  dis- 
interested, mild,  humble,  patient  charity  towards  men. 
This  love^  this  charity,  —  which  is  the  end  of  the  Christian 
commandment,  which  is  greater  than  faith  and  hope,  which 
is  the  very  spirit  of  Christ,  which  is  God  divelling  in  us, 
—  I  have  made  supreme  in  my  ministry ;  and  1  trust  that  I 

have  not  labored  wholly  in  vain 

"  What  I  deplore  in  the  state  of  this  society  and  of  the 
community  is  a  languid,  depressed  tone  of  religious  feeling, 
and  the  want  of  decision,  energy,  strong  purpose,  in  apply- 
ing Christianity  to  conduct.  Religion  slumbers  under  the 
embers,  when  it  should  be  a  quickening  flame.  It  is  my 
consolation,  that  on  this  topic  I  have  preached  plainly,  faith- 
fully, and  not  without  earnestness,  admonishing  you  of  the 
perils  of  a  state  of  society  like  ours,  where  a  partial  Chris- 
tianity is  enjoined  by  public  sentiment  and  habit,  and  of 
course  is  easily  adopted,  whilst  the  spi7-it  of  Christianity  is 
sadly  wanting." 

It  will  be  readily  understood  that  in  the  private  pa- 
pers, from  which  the  foregoing  extracts  have  been  made, 
are  many  passages  of  deeper  interest  than  any  which  we 
have  felt  at  liberty  to  publish  ;  and  it  is  chiefly  the  num- 
ber, variety,  minuteness,  long  continuance  of  his  obser- 
vations upon  his  duty  and  his  own  character,  wliicli 
reveal  Mr.  Channing's  conscientiousness.  But  pi-obably 
even  these  specimens  will  serve  to  show  with  what 
wakeful  hospitality  be  greeted  each  new  suggestion  that 
came  like  a  stranger  to  bis  tent-door,  and  bow  be  made 


166  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

them  his  familiar  guests,  conversed  with  them,  listened 
humbly  to  their  message,  and  found  by  glad  experience 
that  he  had  thus  entertained  angels  unawares.  More 
and  more  the  sublime  opportunities  of  the  age  were 
opening  upon  him,  and  he  gave  hin^self  widi  ever  fresher 
zeal  to  the  work  of  advancing  what  he  saw  to  be  a  new 
era  of  humanity. 

His  usefulness  among  his  own  people  and  in  his 
immediate  community,  as  well  as  his  wide  celebrity, 
suggested  at  this  time  to  a  small  company  of  Unitarians 
in  New  York  the  thought  of  inviting  Mr.  Channing  to 
remove  to  that  city.     On  his  return  from  Baltimore,  in 

1819,  he  had  preached  to  them,  and  communicated  an 
impulse  which  had  continued  to  grow,  and  now  having 
formed  themselves  into  the  "  First  Congregational  So- 
ciety of  the  City  of  New  York,"  they  wrote  to  him  in 

1820,  saying,  —  "We  are  convinced  that  your  aid  is 
indispensably  necessary  to  the  rapid  and  permanent  suc- 
cess of  the  cause  of  uncorrupted  Christianity  in  this, 
quarter  of  the  Union,"  and  urging  him,  if  possible,  to 
enter  upon  this  new  field  of  labor.  "  The  church  which 
you  have  so  essentially  contributed  to  found,"  they  con- 
clude, "  would  be  immediately  built  up,  and  we  confi- 
dently anticipate  that  other  societies  would  be  formed, 
united  in  the  same  faith  and  hope."  In  a  letter  to  a 
friend  who  had  consulted  him  in  relation  to  this  project, 
he  uses  this  language  :  —  "Were  I  a  young  man,  and 
unfettered  by  any  engagements,  I  should  prefer  the  situ- 
ation you  propose  to  any  other  within  my  hopes."  But 
to  the  committee  he  made  the  following  reply  :  — 

"  I  cannot  for  a  moment  hesitate  as  to  the  answer  which  I 
should  give  to  your  application.     I  regard  the  situation  to 


INVITATION    TO    NEW    YORK.  167 

which  you  invite  me  as  honorable  and  iiriporlant.  But 
Providence  has  appointed  me  another  lot.  Public,  domestic, 
and  private  considerations,  which  I  need  not  enlarge  upon, 
leave  me  no  liberty  of  forsaking  the  post  which  I  now  occupy. 
Its  duties  and  responsibilities  are,  indeed,  above  my  strength, 
and  I  believe  that  no  selfish  regards  attach  me  to  it.  But  1 
think  that  I  distinctly  read  in  a  variety  of  circumstances  the 
will  of  God  that  I  should  continue  here  ;  and  unless  these 
change  in  a  very  unexpected  manner,  I  shall  remain  whilst 
I  have  strength  to  labor." 

Most  fortunate  was  it  for  himself  and  for  others,  that 
he  felt  himself  thus  bound  by  duty  to  the  city  which  had 
adopted  him  among  her  most  honored  sons.  For  no 
sphere  in  the  country  could  for  a  moment  compare  with 
Boston  in  its  fitness  to  call  out  all  the  best  powers  of 
head  and  heart  in  a  man  so  constituted.  Its  unity  of 
character,  high  moral  and  intellectual  activity,  benevolent 
earnestness,  social  compactness,  as  well  as  its  rehgious, 
literary,  and  philanthropic  institutions,  formed  an  atmos- 
phere sufficiently  stimulating,  without  dissipating  his  At- 
tention and  wasting  his  energy,  while  he  was  too  free 
and  self-relying  to  be  fettered  by  its  subservience  to 
leaders  and  cliques,  its  sudden  fevers  and  chills  of  popu- 
larity, its  fondness  for  conventional  projirieties.  The 
public  considerations  to  which  he  refers  in  the  foregoing 
letter,  as  forbidding  him  to  leave  his  post,  are  sufficiently 
obvious.  One  of  the  "  private  "  ones  undoubtedly  was, 
that  he  knew  his  own  peculiarities  thoroughly,  and  was 
more  fully  aware  than  any  one  else  could  be  of  his  un- 
fitness at  once  from  native  dispositions  and  from  con- 
firmed habits  to  be  a  polemic  or  a  proselyter.  A  situa- 
tion like  that  to  which  he  was  invited  in  New  York 
would  have   demanded   continual   efforts    of  mind  in  a 


168  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

controversial    direction,  and  required   a   zeal  for  Unrta 
rianism  quite  foreign   to   his    unsectarian   feelings.     But 
his  "domestic"  ties  also  detained  him  in  Boston,  and 
to  a  notice  of  these  we  now  pass. 

When  we  last  saw  Mr.  Channing  in  his  home,  tlie 
bright  ring  of  brothers  and  sisters,  clasped  by  a  mother's 
love,  was  unbroken  ;  and  we  purposely  left  untouched 
that  image  of  the  happy  family  of  which  his  own  pure, 
gentle,  heavenly  affection  was  the  guardian  angel.  But 
long  before  the  period  at  which  our  narrative  has  now 
arrived,  link  after  link  had  been  removed  by  the  various 
chances  and  changes  of  life,  —  by  marriage,  death,  and 
inevitable  dispersion.  The  oldest  son,  Francis,  had 
early  married,  as  we  have  already  seen  ;  and  the  eldest 
daughter,  whose  gentle  heart  was  from  girlhood  interlink- 
ed in  destinies  with  Washington  Allston,  had  been  united 
to  him  on  his  return  to  America  after  his  studies  in  Italy, 
and  had  gone  to  England  to  share  the  uncertain  fortunes 
of  an  artist  and  a  man  of  genius  ;  the  third  sister  had 
also  removed  with  her  husband  to  New  York.  Of  the 
four  younger  brothers,  two  had  entered  into  the  learned 
professions,  two  into  mercantile  pursuits  ;  and  thus  the 
once  large  household  had  dwindled  away.  In  relation 
to  his  sister  Ann's  marriage,  he  had  thus  written  to  his 
grandfather  EUery  :  — 

"A  few  hours  ago,  AVashington  and  Ann,  after  their  long 
and  patient  courtship,  were  united  in  marriage.  We  con- 
sider this  a  happy  event;  but  Ann  is  too  important  a  mem- 
ber of  our  family  to  be  resigned  witliout  somctliing  like 
sorrow.  The  ceremony  made  us  rather  solemn.  I  do  not 
wonder  at  tliis  cnbct.  The  obligations  of  tlic  marriage 
covenant  are   so  extensive,    and   the    consequences  of  the 


DEATH    OF    HIS    BROTHER.  169 

union  so  vast  and  uncertain,  that  I  should  pronounce  a 
person  thoughtless  in  the  extreme,  who  should  exhibit  no 
seriousness  on  such  an  occasion. 

"  Your  granddaughter  has  found,  I  believe,  an  excellent 
husband,  one  who  from  principle  and  affection  will  make 
her  happiness  his  constant  object.  I  hope  that  she  will 
settle  at  no  great  distance  from  us;  but  we  have  not  yet 
sufficient  taste  for  the  arts  to  give  Mr.  Allston  the  encour- 
agement he  deserves.  We  have,  indeed,  money  enough  to 
spend  on  cumbrous  furniture,  which  another  generation  will 
throw  into  the  garret  as  antiquated  and  absurd,  but  we  can- 
not afford  to  adorn  our  walls  with  the  productions  of  genius, 
which  delineate  the  unchanging  beauties  of  nature  or  the 
grandeur  of  man,  and  to  which  the  lapse  of  time  will  impart 
only  new  value." 

But  sadder  separations  followed.  In  the  summer  of 
1810,  Francis,  from  the  effects  of  fatigue  while  engaged 
in  the  laborious  discharge  of  his  duties  as  a  lawyer,  was 
seized  with  violent  hemorrhage,  and  sank  rapidly  into  a 
decline.  He  retired  to  Newport,  where  he  lingered 
for  a  time  amid  the  beautiful  scenery  of  his  native 
island,  receiving  every  kindness  which  the  assiduous 
care  of  anxious  friends  could  lavish,  and  in  the  au- 
tumn sailed  with  his  wife  and  a  favorite  cousin  for  Rio 
Janeiro,  with  the  hope  of  finding  benefit  in  a  change  of 
climate.  But  his  strength  had  been  too  much  exhaust- 
ed, and  on  the  nineteenth  day  of  the  voyage  he  died. 
Months  passed  over,  and  the  spring  had  opened,  be- 
fore the  intelligence  reached  Boston.  It  was  on  a  Sun- 
day, between  the  morning  and  the  afternoon  services, 
that  a  friend  called  to  bear  the  tidings  to  those  in  whose 
hearts  hope  and  anxiety  had  so  long  alternated.  Mr. 
Channing  was  alone  as  he  entered,  and  instantly  read  m 

VOL.    II.  15 


170  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

his  countenance  a  confirmation  of  their  worst  forebodings. 
He  silently  pressed  his  hand,  requested  him  to  mention  it 
to  no  one  else,  and  then  retired  to  his  study  to  gain  in 
prayer  the  calmness  which  he  felt  he  needed,  before  he 
could  tell  his  mother  that  her  first-born  had  first  entered 
into  the  spiritual  world.  But  when  at  last  he  summon- 
ed the  family,  his  own  face  was  as  serene  as  if  he  had 
been  a  messenger  of  joy.  The  next  week  was  one  of 
profoundest  mourning,  not  merely  because  death  had  for 
the  first  time,  after  so  long  a  period,  entered  their  circle, 
nor  merely  because  he  who  was  taken  had  been  a  sec- 
ond father,  but  because  they  had  parted  from  one  who 
had  made  life  rich  by  sweetness,  affection,  cheerful  wis- 
dom, incorruptible  honor,  high  hope,  and  confiding  piety. 
To  William  this  bereavement  caused  a  grief  as  deep  and 
poignant  as  a  disciplined  spirit  devoted  to  ends  of  uni- 
versal good  could  feel,  for  Francis  was  his  bosom  friend. 
But  on  the  Sunday  following  he  preached  two  appro- 
priate discourses,  in  which,  while  not  attempting  to  hide 
the  sense  of  his  own  loss,  he  showed  his  people  that  an 
ascended  angel  had  opened  to  him  bright  glimpses  of 
heaven.  A  few  broken  sentences,  given  as  they  stand 
in  his  journals,  will  best  show  his  state  of  feeling. 

"  A  brother,  —  a  friend,  —  a  nurse  in  sickness,  —  a  coun- 
sellor. One  who  so  often  and  so  tenderly  thought  of  me,  — 
of  us  all,  —  who  was  a  guardian  of  our  happiness.  One 
who  grew  up  with  me.  One  who  has  engaged  so  many  of 
my  thoughts  and  feelings.  The  first-born,  —  the  stay  of 
his  family 

"  The  first  of  our  number  taken  from  a  circle  which  be- 
fore was  complete,  —  how  grateful  should  we  be  that  so 
many  of  us  have  been  so  long  spared  to  each  other,  so 
large  a  family  and  so  few  breaches  !  —  taken  from  the  midst 
of  us,  never  again  to  be  seen  and  embraced  on  earth      .  .  . 


DEATH    OF  HIS    BROTHER.  171 

"  God  has  made  a  melancholy  breach  in_^pur  number. 
May  we  feel  that  this  is  only  the  beginning  of  bereavement. 
Let  us  love  each  other  more,  and  live  prepared  to  resign 
each  other.  Let  this  separation  be  to  survivors  a  bond  of 
tender  union 

"  Taken  at  a  distance  from  us,  beyond  the  reach  of  our 
kind  offices.  His  remains  committed  to  the  deep,  never  to 
be  collected  by  us 

"  Taken  in  the  midst  of  life,  —  a  son,  —  a  husband,  —  a 
father.  In  the  full  vigor  of  his  powers,  when  most  able  to 
bless  and  to  do  good 

"  Let  me  prize  more  highly  the  character  of  my  friends, 
be  sensible  to  their  excellences,  be  grateful  to  them,  and 
labor  to  improve  them.  Let  me  with  frankness  and  mild- 
ness reprove  their  faults  and  errors.  Let  me  consider  the 
excellence  for  which  they  were  made,  and  be  animated 
from  God's  love  to  seek  their  welfare.  Have  I  done'  them 
justice  ?  The  duties  of  my  dear  brother  have  now  devolved 
wholly  upon  me.  Let  this  awaken  me  to  all  my  social  re- 
lations  

"  '  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart.' 
Do  I  undei-stand  this  }  Let  affliction  lead  me  to  this  divine 
intercourse,  to  this  fixed  thought  upon  God.  He  has  taken 
away  one  object  of  hope  and  love,  and  thus  taught  us  our 
dependence.  Let  us  look  to  Him,  live  upon  Him,  live  for 
Him.  He  is  our  Father  and  loves  us.  It  is  to  refine  us,  to 
bring  us  together  again  in  happier  circumstances,  that  he 
thus  afflicts  us.  Let  every  feeling  like  selfishness  be  ex- 
tinguished.    This  separates  me  from  God 

"  God  has  wide  connections  in  this  affliction.  He  made 
our  friend  not  for  us  only,  but  for  the  creation,  —  for  himself. 
His  infinite  purposes  deserve  our  disinterested  reverence. 
Let  us  submit.  We  are  not  overlooked.  God  loves  us. 
We  must  not  imagine  that  God  thinks  only  of  us  or  our 
family.     We  must  view  him  in  his  relations  to  the  infinity 


172  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

of  beings.  There  are  infinite  beings,  dearer  and  purer, 
wLo  deserve  far  more  of  his  regards.  He  seeks  the  uni- 
versal interests  of  all  his  creatures.  Abba  !  Father  !  how 
slowly,  how  faintly,  do  we  realize  this  relation  !  How  happy 
should  we  be  that  His  will  is  done !     It  is  our  privilege  to 

acquiesce 

"  This  dear  sister,  these  dear  children,  are  left  to  us 
as  a  legacy,  —  and  our  kindness  and  care  for  them  must 
never  be  remitted.  How  do  they  call  for  all  our  attach- 
ment !  These  children  require  from  me  more  than  affec- 
tion, —  much  watchfulness,  forethought,  study  of  their  char- 
acters and  propensities ;  —  I  must  help  to  form  them.  What 
a  new  motive  for  self-improvement,  disinterestedness,  clear- 
ness of  mind,  temperance  !  " 

The  last  of  these  extracts  indicates  the  generous  feel- 
ings of  their  writer,  but  only  they  who  experienced  the 
faithfulness  with  which,  through  every  after  year,  he  ful- 
filled the  trust  which  he  thus  acknowledged,  can  appre- 
ciate the  depth  and  delicacy  of  his  affection.  Thence- 
forth he  was  a  father  to  his  brother's  orphans,  an  ever- 
wise  and  ready  counsellor  to  their  widowed  mother. 
Immediately  after  his  sister's  return  from  South  Ameri- 
ca, he  took  her  and  her  children  home  to  live  with  his 
mother  at  the  parsonage,  and  a  few  lines,  written  by  her 
at  that  time  to  a  friend,  will  show^  more  brightly  than 
any  second-hand  picture  could  how  he  then  appeared 
in  his  family. 

"  While  I  am  cheered  and*  consoled  by  William's  pres- 
ence and  conversation,  I  can  bear  every  thing  cheerfully. 
It  would  be  impossible  to  give  you  a  full  impression  of  the 
happy  influence  which  he  exerts.  At  his  approach,  all  tri- 
als and  perplexities  disappear,  every  feeling  but  that  of 
kindness  vanishes,  nothing  is  seen  but  smiles,  nothing  heard 


VIEAVS    OF    CHILDREN.  173 

but  conciliating  and  loving  words.  We  not  only  seem,  but 
feel,  as  human  beings  should  ;  and  I  verily  believe,  that,  if  I 
was  always  in  his  presence,  I  should  never  say  or  do  or 
think  any  thing  inconsistent  with  the  purest  principles  of 
Christianity.  He  is  constantly  occupied  ;  but  his  few  leisure 
moments  are  devoted  to  us,  and  you  would  be  pleased  to 
see  how  the  children  love  him.  They  are  fond  of  all  their 
uncles,  but  William  is  the  decided  favorite.  They  run  to 
him  the  moment  he  opens  the  door,  and  he  can  seldom  get 
away  except  by  stealth.  Their  highest  reward  for  good 
conduct  is  a  visit  to  his  study,  and  their  greatest  punishment 
the  denial  of  a  game  of  romps  or  of  a  story  from  Uncle 
William." 

It  was  in  relation  to  these  children  that  the  following 
letter  was  written  to  their  mother  :  — 

"  My  observation  of  children  has  not  led  me  to  adopt  that 
severe  theology  which  ranks  them  among  demons,  but  I  am 
as  little  disposed  to  join  with  writers  of  fiction  and  exalt 
them  to  the  rank  of  angels.  These  little  cherubs  do  not 
always  show  us  in  their  beaming  countenances  the  serenity 
of  heaven,  and  some  of  their  sounds  would  hardly  accord 
with  the  music  of  that  harmonious  region.  They  have  ca- 
pacities of  improvement,  but  capacities  which  are  not  to  be 
filled  in  a  moment.  The  soil  is  productive,  but  it  bears 
weeds  as  well  as  useful  plants,  and  needs  patient  and  skilful 
cultivation.  .1  look  on  a  blooming,  smiling  child  as  1  do  on 
the  earth  in  spring,  when  covered  with  verdure  and  flowers. 
I  am  delighted,  and  almost  forget  the  uncertainties  of  the 
future  in  the  beauty  and  joy  of  the  present  moment.  But 
I  soon  recollect  that  the  blossom  is  not  the  fruit,  that  there 
is  nothing  permanent  in  this  gay  scenery,  that  the  harvest  is 
at  a  distance,  that  the  valuable  qualities  of  the  mind  and 
heart  ripen  slowly,  almost  insensibly,  that  they  are  ex- 
posed to  a  thousand  adverse  influences,  that  they  must  be 
15* 


174  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

guarded  and  (cherished  with  a  tender  care,  and  that,  after  all, 
we  may  reap  but  sparingly  where  we  have  sown  with  a 
liberal  hand.  I  do  not  mean  that  I  consider  education  as 
ineffectual ;  but  I  believe  it  to  be  the  part  of  wisdom  not  to 
form  large  expectations,  —  especially  not  to  anticipate  or 
desire  very  sudden  improvement.  Rapid  growth  does  not 
characterize  the  most  valuable  productions  of  the  natural  or 
intellectual  world." 

But  another  of  the  family  was  now  to  be  summoned  to 
join  Francis  in  the  "  Father's  house."  Under  date  of 
May  6th,  1815,  are  entered  in  Mr.  Channing's  journal 
the  following  brief  fragments,  which  record  his  high  sense 
of  his  sister's  character,  and  his  warm  affection  for  one 
who  until  her  marriage  had  been  his  confidante. 

"  Yesterday  brought  us  the  sad  tidings  of  Ann's  death. 
She  is  gone,  —  that  beloved  and  excellent  sister,  —  removed 
after  so  long  an  absence.  We  were  not  permitted  to  min- 
ister to  her  last  sufferings.  The  hands  of  strangers  closed 
her  eyes,  —  a  foreign  land  holds  her  remains."  [She  had 
died  in  London,  Feb.  2,  1815.] 

"  How  tender  she  was !  —  how  unwearied  her  kindness ! 
As  a  child,  how  faithful  !  As  a  wife,  how  constant !  In 
friendship  how  unalterable  ! 

"  Can  I  ever  forget  the  offices  of  a  nurse  which  she  prof- 
fered with  so  much  affection  in  my  last  sickness  ?  Can  I 
ever  forget  her,  the  last  by  my  bed-side  at  ni^ht,  the  first 
in  the  morning,  giving  me  her  strength,  watching  over  me 
as  a  parent .'' 

"  She  lived  to  be  useful.  At  liome  she  toiled  without 
wearines.?,  and  sacrificed  herself  without  a  complaint 

"  How  silent,  unostentatious,  were  her  virtues  !  As  a 
Christian,  her  principles  were  strong,  her  sense  of  duty 
deep,  her  heart  humble,  her  professions  sincere.  She 
seemed  to  have  acquired  in  early  life  the  consideration  of 


HIS  sister's  death.  175 

mature  years.  Cheerful  and  animated,  she  was  still  gov- 
erned by  the  most  delicate  sense  of  propriety  How  be- 
loved she  was  by  all  who  knew  her!  —  she  could  not  have 
had  an  enemy.  Home  was  her  sphere,  her  happiness. 
Bound  to  it  by  strong  affection,  she  sighed  for  no  pleas- 
ures beyond  it.     She  was  a  stranger  to  the  world 

"  Her  character  particularly  inspired  confidence.  Her 
heart  spoke  in  her  actions 

"  Her  singular  disinterestedness  !  In  her  sufferinjrs 
abroad,  what  cheerfulness  did  her  letters  express !  She 
was  too  kind  to  draw  on  our  sympathy.  God  gave  her 
many  blessings ;  and  now  he  has  taken  her  to  himself. 

"  How  she  comes  to  me  in  her  affectionateness  !  How 
kind  she  was  to  all  around  her  !  How  silent  were  her  care- 
ful assiduities!  Under  her  calm  exterior  what  deep,  strong 
love !  How  did  she  bless  us,  even  when  least  happy  her- 
self!   

"  God  multiplies  bereavements.  Our  family  is  falling  to 
pieces.  Is  there  no  bond  of  union  ?  Are  we  to  be  lost  to 
each  other  ?  Let  not  dear  Ann  depart,  without  bearing  me 
with  her  into  futurity.  Let  us  think  only  of  following  our 
friends.  Let  them  lead  us  to  heaven.  Let  the  dead  be  in 
our  hearts.     Let  us  think  and  talk  more  as  immortals 

"  She  is  gone,  not  lost.  Let  me  rejoice  in  her  joy.  Is 
she  not  mindful  of  us  ?  Did  God  form  such  ties  that  they 
might  be  broken  ?  She  may  be  near  me.  Let  her  witness 
in  me  only  sincere  affection  and  piety.  ..... 

"  My  mother  is  more  than  ever  to  be  my  care.  I  am 
now  her  oldest  child ;  she  leans  on  me 

"  Let  her  humility  and  disinterestedness  be  my  pattern. 
Let  me  live  to  be  more  useful  to  my  family,  friends,  people. 
Let  my  heart  be  the  seat  of  every  humane  and  devout  af- 
fection. Let  me  be  always  employed  in  doing  good  to 
others,  in  denying  myself,  in  rendering  offices  of  kindness, 
especially  of  spiritual  kindness." 


176  MI  DOLE- AG  K    SIliVISTRY. 

The  following  extract  froni  a  letter  to  a  friend  ull 
serve  yet  further  to  show  how  deep  and  tender  was  his 
affection  for  this  most  gentle  and  loving  woman. 

'■'■  Baston,  May  9,  1815.  You  can  easily  conceive  the 
feelings  which  this  intelligence  has  awakened.  Ann  was 
no  common  friend.  Her  heart,  which  was,  perhaps,  the 
most  constant  in  its  affections  that  I  have  ever  known,  clung 
to  her  family  with  peculiar  tenderness.  The  circumstances 
of  her  early  life,  particularly  her  attachment  to  Mr.  Allston, 
separated  her  from  the  world,  and  seemed  to  extinguish  all 
relish  for  its  ordinary  pleasures ;  and  her  whole  life  was 
given  to  her  family.  In  her  domestic  relations  I  have  hard- 
ly known  one  so  faithful ;  and  the  impression  she  has  left 
on  our  hearts  is  one  which  time  will  never  obliterate.  One 
of  her  last  acts,  before  leaving  this  country,  was  to  unite  her- 
self to  our  church,  an  act  which  nothing  but  the  diffidence 
and  humility  of  her  character  had  led  her  to  defer  so  long. 
Since  leaving  us  we  have  not  been  able  to  observe  her 
course,  but  the  singular  consistency  and  uniformity  of  her 
character  is  a  pledge  that  she  was  found  walking  humbly 
in  the  path  of  her  duty,  and  that  her  end  was  peace. 

"  I  find  that  events  of  this  kind  disturb  my  mind  much 
less  than  formerly.  My  increasing  conviction  of  the  perfect 
goodness  of  God,  of  his  paternal  character,  of  his  minute 
and  tender  care,  and  of  the  riches  of  his  mercy  in  Jesus 
Christ,  the  last  truth  in  religion  which  men  truly  believe 
and  feel,  enables  me  more  cheerfully  to  resign  all  things  to 
his  disposal.  The  thought,  that  God  has  made  our  souls  im- 
mortal, with  capacities  of  angelic  purity  and  glory,  and  for 
the  very  end  that  we  should  ascend  to  heaven,  to  the  society 
of  angels,  to  moral  perfection,  to  the  most  intimate  union 
with  Himself  and  his  Son, —  this  thought,  when  it  is  felt  by 
us,  gives  a  new  aspect  to  nature,  to  society,  to  all  our  pres- 
ent relations  and  connections.     I  have  found  myself  of  late 


HIS    MARRIAGE.  177 

inc  /ii.ed  to  regard  the  future  state  of  the  blessed  in  a.  more 
affecting  and  I  think  attractive  light  than  formerly,  as  a 
state  of  mutual  dependence,  of  useful  services,  of  the  ten- 
derest  affections.  Our  friends,  in  leaving  the  body,  do  not 
put  off  humanity,  they  do  not  lose  their  affection  for  those 
they  leave  behind ;  and  I  would  ask.  Do  they  lose  their  con- 
cern, their  pity .''  Are  those  sympathies  which  are  so  vir- 
tuous in  our  friends  on  earth,  which  Jesus  felt,  unworthy  of 
heaven  }  An  unfeeling  heaven,  a  heaven  where  the  good 
forget  their  friends,  or  are  forbidden  to  feel  deeply  for  them, 
is  certainly  not  very  interesting.  Have  you  never  felt,  in 
listening  to  some  descriptions  of  heaven,  that  they  wanted 
sensibility  .''  Can  we  bear  that  this  bond  of  union  between 
us  sufferers  on  earth  and  the  good  in  heaven  should  be 
dissolved  ? " 

But  this  faithful  son  and  brother  was  now  himself  to 
leave  the  roof  which  his  own  generous  devotedness 
had  made  his  mother's.  In  the  summer  of  1814,  he 
had  married  his  cousin  Ruth  Gibbs,  and  after  passing 
the  winter  in  the  parsonage,  he  was  by  the  earnest  re- 
quest of  Mrs.  Gibbs  to  become  for  a  time  a  member  of 
her  family.  Here  opened  upon  him  a  hfe  most  rich  in 
gentle  happiness  and  beautiful  affection.  His  mother-in- 
law,  who  was  the  sister  of  his  father,  had  much  of  the 
character  of  her  brother,  and  nothing  could  have  been 
more  benignant  than  her  whole  aspect  and  manner. 
Diffidence  blended  with  dignity  surrounded  her  with  an 
atmosphere  of  sweet  refinement,  and,  self-forgetful  as  a 
child,  she  found  her  joy  in  making  all  about  her  bright 
and  content.  The  ample  means  which  her  husband  had 
left  enabled  her  also  to  gratify  every  hospitable  impulse 
and  elegant  taste.  In  relation  to  his  marriage,  one  of 
Mr.  Channing's  sisters  thus  writes  :  — 


178  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

"  You  need  not  that  I  should  tell  you  of  the  respect  and 
tenderness  which  he  always  felt  for  woman  ;  but  you,  per- 
haps, are  not  aware,  that,  with  all  his  admiration  of  the 
gentler  sex,  he  lived  to  the  age  of  thirty-four  or  five,  igno- 
rant of  the  warmest  affection  of  the  heart.  He  had  a  great 
respect  for  woman's  rights ;  and  one  of  my  last  conversa- 
tions with  him  was  on  the  necessity  of  a  law  to  secure  to 
a  married  woman  her  property,  the  interest  of  which 
he  thought  should  be  always  paid  to  her,  without  her 
husband's  having  any  claim  to  control  her  in  its  expendi- 
ture." 

It  may  be  said,  in  a  word,  that  the  principle  here  ex- 
pressed was  the  one  by  whi^h  Mr.  Channing  governed 
himself,  with  the  most  scrupulous  delicacy  and  fastidious 
honor,  throughout  his  married  life. 

We  must  leave  the  reader  to  infer  from  the  ever- 
widening  cheerfulness  of  his  later  years  the  fitness  of 
this  union.  Inwardly  and  outwardly  his  lot  henceforth 
was  singularly  serene.  From  about  this  time  com- 
menced, too,  his  summer  visits  to  Rhode  Island,  where 
Mrs.  Gibbs,  who  resided  in  Boston  during  the  winter, 
retained  a  country-seat ;  and  how  much  the  few  months 
annually  passed  amid  the  quiet  charms  of  "  Oakland  " 
attuned  and  harmonized  his  spirit  will  hereafter  abun- 
dantly appear. 

In  this  connection  it  may  be  agreeable  to  those  who 
desire  to  form  a  full  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Channing,  to 
learn  his  views  of  the  marriage  relation.  They  are  thus 
presented  in  a  sermon  to  his  people  in  1816. 

"  In  this  country,  perhaps,  the  state  of  woman,  the  modes 


VIEWS    OF    MARRIAGE.  179 

of  life,  and  the  moral  sentiments  which  pervade  the  commu- 
nity, are  more  favorable  to  conjugal  and  domestic  happines? 
than  in  any  other  part  of  the  world.  The  culture  which  is  be- 
stowed on  the  female  mind,  and  which  distinguishes  modern 
times  from  the  most  refined  periods  of  antiquity,  —  the  re- 
spect which  is  accorded  to  woman,  and  which  Christianity 
has  done  so  much  to  inspire, —  the  reverence  which  prevails 
for  the  marriage  vow,  and  the  indignation  which  falls  oi: 
conjugal  infidelity,  —  the  habit  by  which  we  are  marked,  of 
looking  to  our  homes  for  the  greatest  part  of  our  happiness, 
and  the  mixture  of  freedom  and  delicacy  with  which  our 
general  intercourse  is  conducted,  —  all  contribute  to  elevate 
among  us  the  female  character,  to  render  woman  the  asso- 
ciate of  man's  most  refined  pleasures  and  pursuits,  and  to 
confer  on  the  conjugal  connection  a  tenderness  and  dignity 
which  have  rarely  distinguished  it. 

"  Women  !  in  proportion  as  you  contemplate  the  condi- 
tion of  your  sex  in  other  countries  and  other  ages,  whether 
in  the  rude  scenes  of  savage  life,  or  in  the  confinements  of 
eastern  voluptuousness,  whether  in  the  ages  of  Grecian  and 
Roman  splendor,  when  female  culture  extended  but  little 
beyond  the  distaff"  or  the  loom,  or  even  in  the  highest  ranks 
of  life  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  —  I  am  persuaded 
that  you  will  find  reason  to  bless  that  Providence  which  has 
appointed  you  this  goodly  heritage  ;  and  I  would  call  upon 
you  to  express  your  gratitude  to  God,  and  to  vindicate  the 

female  character 

"  The  indissolubleness  of  marriage  should  be  distinctly 
and  seriously  weighed  by  those  who  have  to  form  this  c,  n- 
nection.  Let  not  the  most  solemn  engagement  of  life  l^c  an 
act  of  rashness  and  unreflecting  passion.  Let  the  heart 
take  counsel  of  the  understanding.  Let  the  future  as  well 
as  the  present  be  brought  into  the  account.  Let  not  the  eye 
or  the  imagination  be  trusted.  Let  the  young  man  or  tho 
young  woman  inquire,  Is  this  a  friend  with  whom  I  would 


180  MIDDLE- AGE    MINISTRY. 

wish  to  spend,  not  only  my  youth,  hut  my  age,  not  only  my 
health,  bat  my  sickness,  on  whom  I  can  lean  in  my  griefs, 
to  whom  I  can  confide  my  trials,  to  whom  I  am  willing  to 
resign  my  character,  —  who,  it"  reverses  should  befall  me, 
would  help  me  to  sustain  hardship  and  distress,  who  will 
reciprocate  my  best  feelings,  who  will  walk  with  me  to 
heaven  ? 

'*■  The  different  qualities  by  which  man  and  woman  are 
distinguished  and  contrasted  prepare  them  for  a  pecaliariy 
tender  and  beneficial  union,  —  prepare  them  to  supply  each 
other's  deficiencies,  to  perfect  each  other's  character,  and  to 
bear  distinct,  yet  equally  necessary,  parts  in  that  most  im- 
portant work  of  the  present  state,  the  support  and  rearing 
of  a  family.  Marriage,  then,  ought  to  be  regarded  as  insti- 
tuted for  a  very  noble  end,  to  awaken  the  heart,  to  exercise 
and  strengthen  its  sensibilities  and  charities,  to  train  it  to  the 
perfection  of  social  virtue,  to  confer  the  highest  enjoyments 
of  friendship,  to  secure  to  each  party  the  benefit  of  the 
other's  strength,  intelligence,  and  virtues,  and  to  unite  both 
in  forming  useful  and  virtuous  members  for  the  community. 

"  Were  our  views  of  the  connection  thus  elevated,  did  we 
always  regard  it  as  the  great  refiner  of  the  heart,  with  what 
new  cheerfulness  would  its  duties  be  performed,  its  sacri- 
fices be  endured  !  Marriage  is  not  viewed  as  it  should  be  ; 
the  dignity  of  its  end  is  overlooked.  Too  many  rush  into  it 
without  understanding  its  proper  happiness  and  design,  and 
of  course  without  weighing  its  obligations.  Can  we  wonder 
that  its  duties  are  so  often  neglected  ? 

"  There  should  be  an  habitual  flow  of  minute  and  kind 
attentions.  There  are  a  thousand  nameless,  indescribable 
offices  by  which  the  heart  expresses  its  interest,  and  which 
serve  as  a  continual  nourishment  to  the  affections.  There 
is  danger  that  the  familiarity  of  constant  intercourse  ma)' 
produce  a  negligence  of  manners,  a  want  of  mutual  respect, 
a  carelessness  as  to  pleasing.     It  is  not,  I  fear,  uncommon 


VIEWS    OF    MARRIAGE.  181 

to  see  the  fervor  of  youthful  affection  cooling  into  indiffer- 
ence. There  may  be  no  positive  unkindness  ;  there  may 
be  enough  of  decorum  ;  but  there  is  nothing  of  tliat  love 
which  overflows  in  minute  and  ceaseless  kindness.  Every 
day  brings  with  ii  opportunities  of  mutual  services,  which  to 
a  stranger  may  seem  unimportant,  but  which  have  their 
value  when  prompted  by  the  heart.  Accustom  yourselves 
to  multiply  expressions  of  affection  ;  aim  to  give  pleasure ; 
abstain  from  what  will  give  pain ;  make  little  sacrifices. 
The  atmosphere  which  feeds  the  flame  is  an  invisible  and 
silent  agent,  and  in  this  respect  it  is  an  emblem  of  the 
minute  and  gentle  offices  by  which  conjugal  affection  is 
sustained. 

"  Another  duty  belonging  to  husbands  and  wives,  in- 
cluded in  what  I  have  just  stated,  is  this,  —  they  should 
cultivate  each  other's  society.  They  should  avoid  long  and 
unnecessary  separations,  for  these  generate  unconcern  and 
produce  an  independence  on  each  other  which  marks  a 
declining  attachment.  As  far  as  is  consistent  with  their 
duties,  they  should  include  each  other  in  all  their  plans. 
They  should,  in  particular,  share  the  same  pleasures. 
There  should  be  few  solitary  joys.  The  more  of  common 
objects,  of  common  tastes,  of  common  resources  they  pos- 
sess, the  tender  and  more  beneficial  will  be  their  union. 
They  should  often  read  together  the  same  books,  view  to- 
gether the  same  scenes  of  nature,  enjoy  the  same  society. 
It  is  a  bad  symptom,  when  these  nearest  friends  seem  weary 
of  each  other's  society,  when  their  plans  of  life  seem  to 
have  few  points  of  contact,  when  their  happiness  is  derived 

frojna  different  springs 

f "  Let  me  mention  one  more  duty  belonging  to  husbands 
and  wives.  They  should  labor  to  improve  each  othei's 
characters.  This  is  the  noblest  purpose  and  use  of  the 
connection.  They  who  sustain  this  near  relation,  and  have 
consequently  great  power  over  each  other's  minds,  should 

VOL.    II.  16 


182  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

regard  one  another  in  the  light  which  the  gospel  throws  on 
our  nature  as  immortal  beings,  capable  of  great  improve- 
ment, and  whose  highest  interests  are  in  a  future  state. 
Whilst  mindful  of  each  other's  present  happiness,  their  great 
solicitude  should  be  that  eternity  should  be  secured.  Let 
them  watch  over  each  other's  hearts  and  minds  with  afiec- 
tionate  concern,  mutually  inviting  honest  and  friendly  ad- 
monition, and  aiding  and  strengthening  religious  and  benevo- 
lent sentiments 

"  This  is  the  noblest  use  of  the  conjugal  relation ;  and 
when  marriage  is  thus  employed,  when  it  becomes  a  refiner 
of  our  nature,  uniting  the  mind  with  God,  and  elevating  it 
to  heaven,  —  when  they  who  sustain  it  prove  to  each  other 
sources  and  cherishers  of  virtuous  sentiment,  and  see  in 
their  present  union  a  preparation  for  indissoluble  friendship 
after  death,  —  when  marriage  assumes  this  high  and  holy 
character,  it  is  a  felicity  almost  too  pure  for  earth,  it  is  a 
foretaste  of  the  attachments  of  a  better  world." 

In  Mr.  Channing's  journals,  under  date  of  October, 
1816,  is  found  the  following  affecting  passage,  in  relation 
to  his  first-born  child.  Its  simple  story  needs  no  word 
of  explanation. 

"  I  remembered  the  love  of  Jesus  to  little  children.  I 
remembered  the  kindness  of  Him  who  has  called  himself  our 
Father,  and  whose  love  must  be  infinitely  purer  than  mine. 
Still  my  heart  clung  to  her ;  and  when  I  saw  the  last  strug- 
gle on  Wednesday  afternoon,  about  twenty-four  houi*s  after 
her  birth,  I  wept  over  her  as  if  I  had  been  deprived  of  ;i 
long-possessed  blessing.  After  death  her  countenance  be- 
came composed,  and  to  me  seemed  the  most  beautiful,  soft, 
gentle,  and  expressive,  which  I  had  ever  seen  at  so  early  an 
age.  Thursday  afternoon  I  carried  her  to  the  tomb,  in  the 
full  and  certain  hope  of  a  blessed  resurrection.  I  feel  as  if 
my  prayers  for  this  little  one,  and  my  baptismal  and  funeral 


VIEWS    OF.    CHILDREN.  183 

services,  had  formed  a  connection  between  us.  I  feel  as 
if  I  had  a  child  in  a  happier  world,  who  will  know  her  past 
history,  who  will  know  how  earnest  were  my  wishes  to  bless 
her,  to  guide  her  to  all  virtue  and  felicity ;  and  I  hope  yet  to 
meet  her,  and  to  know  that  my  prayers  were  not  in  vain, 
and  to  see  that  my  child  is  more  excellent,  more  happy, 
than  I  could  have  rendered  her." 

But  in  1818  he  bad  the  privilege  of  writing  to  his 
sister  in  a  happier  strain,  on  the  occasion  of  the  birth 
of  a  daughter. 

"  Had  I  not  learned  so  many  lessons  of  this  world's  mu- 
tableness,  I  might  be  in  danger  of  dreaming  of  a  perfect  joy 
on  earth.  But  I  do  not  forget  where  I  am.  I  hope  to  re- 
member why  I  am  placed  here,  and  to  consider  my  new 
relation  chiefly  as  an  enlargement  of  my  means  of  useful- 
ness, and  as  giving  me  an  object  for  the  heart  and  for 
Christian  care  and  exertion.  I  have  not,  as  you  may  readily 
suppose,  thought  much  about  education  as  yet !  I  have  a 
general  persuasion,  however,  that  children  are  educated 
chiefly  by  example,  by  a  continual,  insensible  influence  of 
those  around  them,  and  that  the  surest  way  to  improve  our 
children  is  to  improve  ourselves.  I  do  not  mean  that  this 
motive  is  as  powerful  as  it  should  be.  I  hope,  however, 
that  we  shall  in  some  degree  be  governed  by  it,  and  shall 
labor  to  express  no  feeling  or  principle  before  our  little  girl 
which  we  should  not  wish  her  to  adopt." 

A  few  extracts  from  his  papers  will  show  the  feelings 
with  which  he  welcomed  the  young  being  intrusted  to 
his  care. 

"  What  dignity  Christianity  sheds  round  the  event  of 
birth  !  How  unimportant  are  the  rise  and  fall  of  empires, 
in  comparison  with  the  entrance  of  an  immortal  soul  into 
existence  !     Here  is  a  new  agent  introduced  into  the  uni- 


184  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

verse,  —  a  being  now  so  frail,  yet  to  grow  to  vast,  to  incon- 
ceivable influence,  —  a  being  now  so  dependent,  yet  to 
sustain  immense,  all-important  relations.  This  child  is  to 
survive  the  changes  of  nature  !    We  think  only  of  the  present. 

God  has  formed  it  for  high  and  unknown  purposes 

"  May  this  child  never  have  cause  to  reproach  us  for  evil 
example,  neglect,  ruinous  indulgence.  Through  its  whole 
everlasting  being,  may  it  remember  us,  as,  under  God,  its 
earliest,  best  friends,  by  whose  kind  care  it  learned  to  form 
itself  upon  the  principles  which  are  the  foundation  of  eternal 
s/  peace.  Here  is  a  mind  to  labor  for,  which  is  .to  live  for 
ever.  Our  influence  on  it  is  to  be  perpetual.  '  What  a 
claim  this  little  being  brings  with  it !  What  latent  capaci- 
ties !  —  yet  not  one  developed.  Here  is  a  being  whom  I  may 
taint  or  raise  to  immortal  glory.  Is  this  child  given  to  us  to 
become  ours  }  What  a  possession,  to  keep  the  heart  alive, 
not  for  a  day  or  year,  but  for  life,  for  ages  upon  ages  !  " 

And  to  his  people,  on  the  Sunday  following,  he 
said  :  — 

"  We  have  heard  of  a  barbarous  nation  where  the  child 
was  received  with  weeping.  But  this  is  not  nature.  There 
is  instinctive,  irresistible  joy,  when  we  look  on  the  little 
being  brought  into  a  new  world,  with  a  form  so  perfect,  a 
structure  so  delicate,  a  countenance  so  winning,  —  who 
comes  a  stranger  to  all  our  solicitudes,  who  sinks  so  securely 
into  slumber,  as  if  it  were  lodged  in  paradise,  who  has  no 
resource  in  its  own  power  for  all  the  wants  to  which  it  is 
exposed,  but  finds  supply  beyond  its  needs  in  the  affection 
that  welcomes  it 

''  We  were  made  to  love.  This  is  the  end  of  God  in  all 
social  relations.  It  is  his  purpose  that  no  man  should  live 
for  himself  He  has  made  life  to  be  a  succession  of  labors 
and  sacrifices  for  the  happiness  of  othei*s.  It  is  for  this  that 
children  arc  made  so  helpless.     They  are  born  weak,  tha* 


VIEWS    OF    CHILDREN.  185 

they  should  rest  upon  our  strength.  Their  limbs  cannot 
sustain  their  weight,  that  they  may  be  folded  in  our  arms 
and  warmed  upon  our  breasts.  It  is  for  this  that  God  gives 
them  such  sweetness,  innocence,  beauty.  His  purpose  is 
to  enlarge  our  hearts  by  generous  toils  aifft'  self-denials. 
The  hardest  heart  melts  at  the  sight  of  infancy.  In  every 
home,  however  rude,  however  splendid,  one  being  is  em- 
braced with  sincere  love,  and  that  is  the  new-born  child. 
The  young  woman  of  fashion,  whose  affections  have  been 
dissipated  by  false  pleasures,  becomes  another  person  as  she 
clasps  her  infant  in  her  arms.  New  tenderness  fills  hei 
bosom,  new  solicitudes  and  hopes  spring  up.  She  learns  ta 
live  in  the  happiness  of  this  litde  dependent  creature.  Ani\ 
in  the  house  of  the  poor  laborer,  what  overflowing  tender 
ness  is  poured  out  to  welcome,  what  toils  are  cheerfully 
borne  to  rear,  the  child  whose  birth  imposes  a  perpelua\ 
burden  !  Children  call  forth  a  tenderness  which  softens  ths 
whole  character  in  all  relations.  We  enter  a  warmer  re 
gion,  when  we  approach  a  home  gladdened  by  their  artless, 
ness,  simplicity,  confiding  affection,  playful  gladness.  Tha 
heart  awakes  to  healthier  action,  and  becomes  more  suscep- 
tible to  all  good  impressions.  Home  is  the  nursery  of  the 
heart ;  children  are  really  our  teachers,  and  the  lessona 
which  they  communicate  are  love,  self-forgetfulness,  interest 
in  the  welfare  of  others.  I  am  persuaded  that  just  in  pro- 
portion as  the  domestic  affections  have  opportunity  to  ex- 
pand in  any  community,   is   general    kindness,  sympathy, 

philanthropy  diffused 

"  A  Christian  parent,  on  the  birth  of  a  child,  has  senti- 
ments like  these  brought  with  power  to  his  mind  :  — '  Here 
IS  a  being  committed  to  me  worth  more  than  the  world.  I 
am  now  honored  with  an  infinite  trust.  This  cradle  con- 
tains a  life,  the  issues  of  which  are  shrouded  in  the  solemn 
uncertainties  of  the  everlasting  future.  Here  is  not  only 
a  helpless  being  to  be  loved,  but  a  growing  being  to  be 
16* 


186 


MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 


trained.  It  is  to  be  influenced  in  its  growtli  by  eveiy  one 
around  it.  It  is  to  learn  the  language  which  falls  upon  its 
ear,  to  cat(;h  the  manners  which  pass  before  its  eye,  to  re- 
ceive impressions  so  easily  made  and  so  indelible  that  they 
will  seem  like  nature.  It  is  to  reflect  not  only  the  counte- 
nances, but  the  charactei-s,  of  those  who  have  given  it  exist- 
ence. It  is  a  creature  of  sympathy  and  imitation,  which 
will  receive  traces  never  to  be  erased.  What  a  trust ! 
God's  noblest  work  is  put  into  my  hands.  I  may  do  much 
to  inscribe  God's  image  on  this  immortal  mind.  I  may  do 
much  to  form  a.  friend  for  society,  a  source  of  good  for  man- 
kind. I  may  do  much  to  give  a  new  inhabitant  to  heaven, 
a  new  member  to  the  companies  of  the  blessed.  Thanks 
to  thee,  O  God,  for  the  relation  I  sustain !     By  thy  grace  I 

will  fulfil  its  duties.' 

"  It  is,  indeed,  a  most  merciful  appointment  of  God,  that 
children,  by  needing  so  much  care,  impose  such  responsi- 
bility. Many,  many  parents  would  have  wasted  life,  neg- 
lected and  destroyed  themselves,  had  not  the  parental  rela- 
tion awakened  them  to  reflection.  The  solemn  thought,  that 
the  immortal  mind  intrusted  to  them  might  perish  through 
their  neglect,  has  called  multitudes  home  to  their  own  hearts 
and  to  God.  They  have  been  brought  to  feel  the  impor- 
tance of  their  own  future  interests,  in  thinking  of  those  of 
their  children.  The  consideration,  that  their  own  characters 
would  be  communicated  to  those  whom  they  loved  more 
than  themselves,  that  their  children  would  receive  from 
them  principles,  habits,  and  feelings,  has  induced  a  watch- 
fulness, a  regularity  of  speech  and  conduct,  and  an  appli- 
cation to  duty,  by  which  their  own  souls  have  been  purified. 
Perhaps  we  little  suspect  how  much  of  the  virtue  of  a  com- 
munity is  to  be  traced  to  the  strong  feeling  of  responsibility 
which  is  awakened  in  the  mind  by  the  parental  relation.  I 
repeat  it,  children  are  inestimable  blessings,  by  calling  forth 
the  consciences  of  their  parents.  The  instructions  we  im- 
part come  back  upon  ourselves 


VIEWS    OF    BAPTISM.  187 

"  Let  me  add  one  more  thought,  most  familiar,  yet  most 
affecting.  In  a  child  we  gain  a  being  who  can  return  as 
well  as  receive  kindness.  The  love  of  a  good  child,  —  does 
earth  hold  as  rich  a  blessing  ?  Its  smiles  and  cheerful  obe- 
dience repay  our  toils  during  its  youth  ;  and  whS  can  express 
the  value  of  its  affectionate  attentions  as  we  advance  into 
age  ?  Who  can  smooth  the  pillow  of  sickness  like  the 
hand  of  the  daughter  whose  sensibility  we  nurtured  in  her 
tender  years  ?  Who  can  sustain  our  infirm  steps  like  the 
son  whose  manly  virtues  we  helped  to  form .''  Who  would 
not  have  his  eyes  closed,  his  remains  committed  to  the 
dust,  by  filial  affection  ?  A  good  child  is  a  blessing  through 
life,  and  a  blessing  after  death.  I  cannot  think  that  in 
another  world  we  shall  forget  the  kindness  which  guided 
and  watched  over  us  in  this.  If  any  earthly  sentiment  sur- 
vive beyond  the  grave,  surely  it  will  be  the  gratitude  of  the 
child  and  the  joy  of  the  parent,  when  they  meet  in  heaven." 

On  the  occasion  of  the  baptism  of  one  his  children, 
Mr.  Channing  thus  expressed  his  views  of  that  rite, 
which  some  of  the  readers  of  this  biography  may  be 
glad  to  know. 

"  The  question  is  asked,  '  Why  apply  a  religious  insti- 
tution to  a  child  before  he  can  comprehend  or  desire  its 
benefits .'' '  Such  a  question  overlooks  the  great  fact  of  man's 
existence,  that  we  are  born  into  various  human  relations, 
that  by  birth  we  enter  into  a  society,  into  a  religious  com- 
munity, as  well  as  into  a  family.  It  is  in  vain  to  say  that 
children  should  be  left  to  choose  a  form  of  religion  for  them- 
selves. They  cannot  escape  the  influence  of  family,  of 
country.  If  Christian  principles  do  not  restrain  and  elevate 
them,  other  principles  will  usurp  control  over  their  suscep- 
tible years.  Such  is  man's  nature  and  condition.  Fiom 
these  considerations  it  follows,  that  Christianity  must  stoop 


188  WIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

to  the  cradle,  and  take  the  infant  into  its  aims  from  the 
hour  of  birth.  It  must  make  the  first  claim  to  children,  and 
set  its  seal  upon  them  from  their  earliest  breath.  It  is  wise 
and  fit  that  by  some  visible  sign  our  religion  should  lay  its 
hand  of  benediction  upon  the  young  beings  who  are  to  be 
trained  by  its  discipline.  The  child  is,  indeed,  unconscious 
of  the  meaning  of  our  act  in  baptism  ;  but  at  that  moment 
it  is  an  intelligent  and  immortal  being,  having  within  itself 
the  seeds  of  afl'ections  and  capacities  which  are  to  un- 
fold for  ever.  It  soon  is  to  become  conscious  of  that  filial 
feeling  which  is  the  simplest  element  of  piety.  And  how 
expressive  is  the  rite  by  which  it  is  given  up  to  Jes\is  Christ 
to  receive  the  influences  of  his  religion  ! 

"  These  remarks  help  us  to  answer  the  question  most 
satisfactorily  as  to  the  use  of  baptism  to  a  child.  To  answer 
this  question,  some  Christians  have  thought  it  necessary  to 
say  that  baptism  communicates  to  the  infant  Divine  grace, 
that  it  is  a  regenerating  ordinance,  that  when  the  water 
touches  the  body,  God's  spirit  touches  the  mind,  and  that  a 
new  nature  is  thereby  implanted.  This  doctrine  will  hardly 
maintain  its  ground  in  the  school  of  sound  theology.  Our 
whole  experience  opposes  it.  This  institution  is  useful  to 
children,  by  exhibiting  their  claims  to  Christ's  religion,  and 
the  design  of  this  religion  to  operate  on  their  minds.  By 
baptism  the  light  and  privileges  of  the  gospel  are  pledged 
to  them  by  their  parents.  By  it  they  are  introduced  into  the 
Christian  community.  The  water  of  baptism  is  a  mark  of 
the  finger  of  God  upon  their  foreheads,  for  ever  showing 
forth  the  great  ends  for  which  a  human  life  is  given 

"  This  institution  is  designed  to  bring  strongly  to  the 
hearts  of  parents  a  consciousness  of  their  influence  over 
their  children,  and  to  bind  them  solemnly  to  a  just  use  of 
this  influence.  Parents  are  swayed  by  the  ideas  which  they 
liabitually  associate  with  theii  hildren.  It  is  important, 
therefore,  that  they  should  take  nigh  and  generous  views  of 


HIS    PROSPERITV.  189 

their  destiny.  Bat  the  very  helplessness  and  ignorance  of 
children  tempt  us  to  forget  the  greatness  of  their  nature ; 
and  their  animal  wants  while  young,  and  their  worldly  inter- 
ests as  they  advance,  continually  incline  us  to  c^isider  their 
earthly  good  as  of  primary  concern.  Now  the  Christian  re- 
hgion  teaches  us  to  treat  the  infant  with  reverence,  to  wel- 
come it  as  the  heir  of  unknown  worlds,  to  see  in  its  early 
intelligence  the  dawning  of  a  light  which  is  never  to  be 
quenched,  but  to  brighten  forever.  To  beget  in  us  this 
noble  way  of  thinking  and  feeling,  is  it  not  right  that  by 
some  positive,  definite  act,  by  a  public  religious  form,  par- 
ents should  solemnly  consecrate  their  children  to  God  and 
Christ,  should  recognize  them  as  spiritual  beings,  should  set 
them  apart  in  the  eyes  of  all  men  for  a  holy  training  and  an 
immortal  destiny.?  " 

Two  sons  were  in  a  few  years  also  born  to  Mr.  Clian- 
ning;  and,  settled  in  a  delightful  home  in  the  vicinity 
of  his  mother  and  of  his  wife's  family,  surrounded  by  a 
society  which  listened  to  his  every  word  with  interest 
and  lent  a  ready  aid  to  all  his  plans,  esteemed  and  loved 
by  the  whole  community  in  which  he  lived,  and  every 
year  becoming  more  widely  influential,  he  feh,  as  he 
said  to  a  friend,  that  ''  his  condition  was  as  prosperous 
as  he  could  well  bear  ;  and  that,  were  it  not  for  almost 
daily  debility  and  suffering,  he  should  fail  of  the  disci- 
pline of  pain  which  every  being  needs  to  purify  away 
his  self-love."  In  reference  to  his  constant  and  in- 
creasing infirmity,  he  writes  thus  in  his  journals  :  — 

■"  Let  me  gratefully  accept  the  affliction  of  sickness,  and 
chiefly  desire  that  God's  ends  shall  be  answered.  Let  not 
one  sinking,  repining  thought  come  over  me." 

"  Sickness  has  temptations.     Let  me  not  pamper  self,  but 


190  MIDDLE-AGE    MINISTRY. 

with  distinct  purpose  employ  all  means  to  health,  as  fitting 
me  for  usefulness  and  for  the  service  of  God  and  man." 

So  enfeebled  had  he  beconje  in  the  winter  and  spring 
of  1822,  that  it  was  determined,  at  length,  that  he  should 
try  the  effect  of  a  voyage  and  a  year's  journey  abroad. 
In  consequence  of  this  necessity,  the  Society  in  Federal 
Street,  with  the  alacrity  which  they  had  always  shown  to 
promote  his  comfort,  passed  at  a  full  meeting  the  follow- 
ing votes  :  — 

'  1.  That  the  Standing  Committee  be  authorized  to  en- 
gage some  person,  with  the  concurrence  of  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Channing,  to  supply  his  pulpit  for  one  year. 

"  2.  That  the  Rev.  Dr.  Channing  be  released  from  all 
services  for  his  parish  for  one  year,  and  that  Deacon  Davis 
be  requested  to  express  to  him  the  earnest  wish  of  this  meet- 
ing to  do  all  in  their  power  to  conduce  to  the  restoration  of 
his  health. 

"  3.  That  the  Standing  Committee  be  authorized  to  raise 
by  subscription  the  sum  of  one  thousand  dollars  to  defray 
the  additional  expense  of  the  year. 

"  D.  D.  Rogers,  Chairman. 
"Benj.  Guild,  Clerks 

On  May  26,  the  Sunday  before  he  sailed,  he  thus 
communicated  to  his  people  his  reasons  for  going 
abroad  :  — 

"  The  circumstances  which  have  led  me  to  resolve  on  a 
voyage  are  known  to  all  ;  and  I  am  grecrtly  encouraged  by 
the  unanimity  with  which  my  purpose  has  been  seconded 
by  my  society.  I  have  formed  it  reluctantly,  after  many 
solicitations  and  admonitions  from  judicious  friends,  and 
after  a  faithful  trial  of  the  means  of  health  at  home.  Froni 
the  moment  of  my  decision,  I  have,  indeed,  labored  to  set 


SICKNESS,  191 

before  my  mind  the  pleasures  and  benefits  of  visiting  the 
Old  World,  of  traversing  countries  which  have  kindled  my 
imagination  almost  from  infancy,  whose  literature  has  been 
the  food  of  my  mind,  and  where  nature  and  sgipiety  present 
aspects  hardly  to  be  conceived  amidst  the  freshness  of  our 
own  institutions.  But  these  considerations,  while  they  for- 
tify my  purpose,  had  no  influence  in  originating  it.  I  do 
not  mean  to  imply  that  such  motives  are  criminal ;  yet  ta 
one  sustaining  the  relations  which  I  do,  home  is  the  field 
of  duty,  and  to  me  it  has  been  so  happy  that  my  mind  until 
lately  shrunk  from  the  thought  of  quitting  it. 

"  The  circumstance  which  has  decided  me  to  leave  you 
is  the  apprehension  which  experience  has  almost  made  a 
certainty,  that,  if  I  remain,  I  shall  linger  through  life  in  a 
condition  unfavorable  to  my  own  improvement  and  to  pub- 
lic usefulness,  in  that  middle  state  between  sickness  and 
health,  that  alternation  of  animation  and  languor,  that  lia- 
bility to  sink  under  any  considerable  exertion,  which  I  have 
experienced  to  a  great  degree  ever  since  my  connection 
with  you,  and  which  my  late  indisposition  has  sensibly  in- 
creased. More  than  a  year  has  now  elapsed  since  the  in- 
terruption of  my  professional  labors,  and  when  I  look  back 
on  this  period,  my  spirit  droops  at  the  thought  of  continuing 
to  drag  on  existence  inactively  and  unprofitably,  nursing  a 
frail  body,  seeking  relaxation  as  a  task,  now  gaining  and 
now  relapsing,  and  not  only  put  to  silence  on  Sundays,  but 
compelled  through  the  week  to  forego  the  books  and  means 
of  improvement  which  from  early  years  have  been  to  me 
as  daily  bread.  The  reflections,  which,  m  these  circum- 
stances are  apt  to  fasten  on  a  minister's  mind,  are  such  as 
others  cannot  easily  understand.  Conscious  of  past  de- 
ficiencies, he  is  solicitous  to  repair  them,  whilst,  for  aught  he 
knows,  the  Lord  of  the  vineyard  may  have  already  dismiss- 
ed him  as  an  unprofitable  laborer.  I  mean  not  to  speak  of 
the  past  year  as  of  one  of  great  sufl^ering,  but  in  the  inactivi- 


192  MlbDLE-AGK    MINISTRV. 

ty  to  which  I  have  been  reduced,  an  effort  has  been  often 
needed  to  sustain  my  spirits,  and  my  feeUngs  as  well  as  my 
sense  of  duty  strongly  urge  me  to  make  a  decided  effort  for 
health.  If  I  fail,  I  shall  at  least  have  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  that  I  have  declined  no  labor  for  recoverinj;  the 
capacity  of  serving  God  and  my  fellow-men." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

EUROPEAN   JOURNEY. 
MT.  42-43     1822-1823. 

Before  following  Mr.  Channing  in  his  travels  abroad, 
it  may  be  well,  for  the  end  of  showing  the  delight  with 
which  he  looked  on  nature  and  his  capacity  for  enjoying 
beauty,  to  present  some  sketches  of  scenery  from  letters 
written  during  a  journey  through  New  Hampshire  and 
Vermont,  in  the  summer  of  182 1. 

"  Centre  Harbour,  New  Hampshire,  July  31,  1821.  Very 
soon  an  ascent  opened  to  us  a  prospect  which  made  us  for- 
get past  inconveniences.  On  our  right,  we  discovered  a  noble 
range  of  mountains,  their  declivities  towards  us  thrown  into 
shade,  and  their  waving  outline,  gentle  and  beautiful,  form- 
ing an  affecting  contrast  with  their  grandeur  and  solemnity. 
I  have  just  learned  that  among  them  was  the  Ossipee,  of 
which  you  have  often  heard.  Below  them  was  a  sheet  of 
water  of  considerable  extent,  called  the  '  Little  Bay,'  the 
more  distant  part  of  it  darkened  by  the  eminences  beyond, 
and  the  part  which  was  nearest  to  us  brightened  by  the  sun's 
light,  which  fell  on  it  through  a  soft  mist.  The  mist  was 
dense  enough  to  be  impressed  with  the  shadows  of  the  trees 
on  the  neighbouring  heights,  so  as  to  give  a  singular  mixture 
of  light  and  shade  in  its  thin  and  ethereal  substance,  yet  not 
so  dense  as  to  prevent  a  dim,  visionary  reflection  of  the  trees 
in  the  tranquil  surface  of  the  water.  Have  I  helped  you  to 
look  through  my  eyes  ?  " 

VOL.    II.  17 


194  EUROPEAN    JOURNEY. 

*'  Wednesday  morning.  Centre  Harbour.  From  the  east 
windows,  at  which  I  now  sit,  and  out  of  which  my  eye  often 
steals,  I  look  down  immediately  on  the  lake,  but  not  on  such 
a  sheet  of  water  as  your  imagination  probably  represents  to 
you.  I  learned,  before  I  reached  it,  that  the  Winnipiseogee 
was  studded  with  islands  of  considerable  extent,  and  in  great 
number,  so  that  you  can  take  in  but  a  small  part  of  it  from 
the  shores.  But  whilst  this  detracts  from  its  unity  and  gran- 
deur, you  find  beauties  of  another  kind.  The  channels  which 
divide  the  islands,  the  nunierous  points  and  projections,  the 
shores  fringed  with  trees,  by  multiplying  the  lights  and 
casting  shadows  on  the  water,  give  great  interest  to  the  scene. 
The  shore  opposite  to  me  is  covered  with  pines,  stretching  to 
some  distance,  and  beyond  them  rises  the  noble  Ossipee, 
which,  covered  with  the  light  mist  that  now  floats  over  it,  1 
have,  more  than  once,  when  accidentally  glancing  up,  taken 
for  a  vast  mass  of  clouds.  My  eye  rests  upon  it  with  in- 
creasing pleasure,  and  I  feel,  that,  were  I  neighbour  to  a 
mountain,  I  should  establish  a  friendship  with  it,  perhaps 
more  intimate  than  I  have  formed  with  any  part  of  nature. 
My  mind  seems  to  enlarge,  to  swell  with  these  majestic 
forms,  which  claim  kindred  with  the  skies." 

"  Sharon,  White  River,  Vermont,  Aug.  1.  I  wish  I  could 
communicate  to  you  my  sensations.  The  river  was  just  be- 
low us  to  the  west.  The  country  on  the  other  side,  of  which 
our  view  had  been  limited  by  hills  rising  from  the  stream, 
opened,  both  to  the  north  and  south,  into  two  wide,  far^ 
reaching,  and  gently  ascending  valleys,  —  if,  indeed,  they 
were  hollowed  enough  to  be  so  called.  These  valleys,  oi 
rather  expanses,  did  not  swell  gradually  through  their  whole 
extent,  as  they  receded  to  the  horizon,  but  were  intersccteo 
in  a  free  and  bold  style  with  elevations  rising  one  behind  an- 
other, each  giving  to  the  eye  a  line  of  shrubbery  and  foliage, 
on  the  tops  of  which  the  sun  shed  a  rich,  mellow  light,  whilst 


WHITE    RIVER. 


195 


the  sides  towards  us  were  thrown  into  shade.  Not  that  there 
was  much  regularity  in  this  ;  for  the  passing  clouds  distrib- 
uted unequally  the  splendors  of  the  sunshine.  The  pros- 
pect was  magnificent,  to  a  wonderful  dcgrce^jind  you  would 
have  called  it  grand,  had  not  beauty,  a  soft,  touching,  beauty, 
so  melted  its  parts  into  one  another,  and  so  spread  harmony 
and  gentleness  over  the  whole,  as  to  assert  its  claim  above 
sublimity  in  the  scene.  We  began  with  expressing  our  ad- 
miration ;  but  silence  soon  showed  that  the  heart  was  too 
much  softened  for  talking.  When  I  tell  you  that  tears 
flowed,  you  will  understand  that  they  were  not  mine,  for  the 
fountain  lies  very  deep  in  me  ;  but  I  give  you  no  fiction.  In 
one  sentiment  we  all  afterwards  agreed,  that  we  could  en- 
dure th^  grandeur  through  which  we  had  lately  passed  much 
better  than  this  loveliness  and  tenderness  of  beauty.  The 
last  exhausted  us  ;  the  first  gave  an  exulting,  triumphant 
feeling.  I  relate  merely  our  sensations.  I  have  been  too 
busy  to  analyze  or  to  try  to  explain  them." 

"  While  River,  Aug.  6.  As  I  ascended  towards  its  source, 
its  animating  characteristics  grew  more  and  more  striking, 
and  I  felt  its  power.  It  is  indeed  a  peculiar  stream,  and 
forms  a  remarkable  contrast  with  the  Connecticut,  into  which 
it  empties.  The  moment  you  leave  the  point  where  they 
meet,  —  I  may  say,  the  very  first  step  you  take  on  White 
River,  —  you  feel  that  you  are  forming  a  new  acquaintance, 
that  you  have  found  a  river  of  different  features  and  habits, 
not  contented  to  wind  slowly  and  silently  through  fertile  and 
smooth  banks,  but  full  of  spirit  and  youthful  sportiveness  ; 
loving  solitudes,  not  for  meditation,  but  that  it  may  leap  and 
dance  without  restraint,  and  listen  to  its  own  brisk  murmurs, 
multiplying  its  quick  turns,  as  if  eager  for  change, —  rushing 
against  the  stones  and  rocks,  like  youth  engaging  in  mock 
contests. 

"The  whole  stream  has  an  exhilarating  character  from 


196  EUROPEAN    JOURNEY. 

its  beginning;  but  it  was  not  until  the  afternoon,  under  a 
glorious  sky,  that  I  felt  its  power.  In  a  short  time,  the 
banks  began  to  rise  more  precipitously  and  to  a  greater 
height,  and  the  turns  of  the  river  were  more  sudden,  and  the 
oank  oil,  which  we  rode  steeper,  so  that  we  found  ourselves 
n  the  midst  of  the  wildest  scenery  which  I  remember.  Be- 
fore, behind,  all  around  us,  were  heights  thrown  together  in 
a  confused  manner,  sometimes  quite  hemming  us  in,  some- 
times opening  into  views  of  wide  extent,  and  receiving  from 
the  sun  a  most  various,  shifting  light.  Indeed,  such  confu- 
sion of  lights  and  shades,  of  effulgence  and  fainter  illumina- 
tion, you  cannot  easily  conceive.  I  found  the  effect  on  my 
own  mind  quite  different  from  that  of  former  scenery.  It 
was  not  as  exalting  as  the  mountain  grandeur  of  New  Hamp- 
shire, but  it  exhilarated  me  more,  and  gave  me  the  very  ex- 
citement which  an  invalid  needs. 

"  This  very  striking  sceneiy  continues  but  a  few  miles. 
Then  the  banks  recede  more  gradually,  the  hills  slope  more 
gently  ;  the  stream  seems  willing  to  refresh  itself,  amidst  its 
brisk  movements,  with  spots  of  quiet  beauty.  Still  it  keeps 
up  its  consistency.  It  slumbers  nowhere  ;  and  when  its 
surface  is  smoothest,  you  will  here  and  there  see  a  rock  or 
stone  breaking  its  uniformity  and  making  its  motion  visible 
by  a  little  eddy  or  a  line  of  depression  on  the  water." 

"  Sandy  Hill,  Neio  York,  Aug.  7.  After  passing  through 
much  the  same  scenery  as  we  had  seen  towards  the  end  of 
the  preceding  day's  journey,  we  addressed  ourselves  to  a 
labor  which  we  had  anticipated  with  no  little  interest ;  I 
mean  the  ascent  of  the  Green  Mountains.  Here  we  left  our 
pleasant  companion,  the  White  River,  and  began  to  follow 
one  of  its  branches,  a  narrower,  but  still  noisier  and  more 
precipitous  stream.  Very  soon  we  were  conscious  of  having 
entered  a  nobler  and  more  solemn  region  than  we  had  yet 
explored.     I  had  expected  to  scale  mountains  which  were  to 


GREEN    MOUNTAINS.  197 

open  to  me  an  immnnse  extent  of  prospect ;  but  I  found  my- 
self plunged  into  one  of  nature's  deepest  recesses.  I  as- 
cended through  a  cleft,  on  both  sides  of  which  rose  steeps, 
sometimes  of  a  t^ast  height,  clothed  with  woods  to  their  very 
tops.  So  profound  a  solitude  I  have  never  known.  I  seemed 
to  feel  as  if  I  were  cast  into  a  world  of  immeasurable  forests. 
So  entire  and  absorbing  is  the  impression  which  you  receive 
from  the  heights  and  depths  around  you,  any  one  of  which 
has  power  to  fill  the  eyes  and  the  mind  by  its  masses  and 
sweeps  of  noble  trees,  that  the  scenes  you  have  left  are  blot- 
ted out ;  you  live  for  the  time  only  in  the  grand,  glorious 
scene  that  swells  around  you.  The  openings  which  are 
here  and  there  made  into  the  forests,  by  large  rocks  or  the 
rushing  stream,  only  seem  to  conduct  your  eye  into  intermi- 
nable depths  of  foliage  and  shade.  Above  you,  after  you 
have  been  ^ascending  perhaps  a  mile,  tower  mountain-tops 
which  seem  to  sink  you  into  a  valley,  though  you  are  con- 
scious of  having  left  the  lowland  world  far  beneath.  This 
passage  through  the  mountains  gives  no  particular  scenes  to 
be  described.  Its  power  lies  in  the  general,  deep,  overpow- 
ering impression  which  it  makes 

"On  Tuesday  morning,  we  began  to  follow  again  the 
Onion  River,  which  wound  among  hills  less  bold  than  those 
we  had  seen  the  day  before ;  but,  viewed  through  the  misty 
light  of  the  morning,  they  gave  us  continual  pleasure,  until 
we  reached  a  spot  which  had  power  to  efface  for  a  time  all 
other  impressions.  Nobody  had  whispered  to  us  that  we 
were  to  meet  any  thing  extraordinary.  You  will  judge,  then, 
of  our  astonishment  and  delight,  when,  after  hearing  for  a 
few  minutes  an  unusual  tumult,  we  found  ourselves  on  a 
bridge,  which  discovered  to  us,  on  both  sides,  a  deep,  rocky, 
perpendicular  ravine,  through  which  the  river,  contracted  to 
a  few  yards;  was  rushing,  raging,  foaming,  as  if  it  had  re- 
served  all  its  might  and  passion  for  this  single  spot.  The 
ravine  or  cleft  seemed  to  me  a  quarter  or  sixth  of  a  mile  in 
17* 


i9Q  EUROPEAN    JOURNEY. 

length,  and  so  straight,  that  from  two  or  three  points  the  eye 
could  command  nearly  its  whole  extent.  The  cliffs  rose 
perpendicularly  to  the  height,  I  should  think,  of  forty  to  sixty 
feet,  in  parallel  lines  of  solid  rock.  That  so  remarkable  a 
rapid  should  not  even  have  been  named  to  us  v/as  matter  of 
wonder,  and  proved  how  little  impression  is  made  by  the 
mighty  works  of  God.  We  clambered  to  the  highest  point 
of  the  banks,  and  looked  down  the  giddy  steep  with  an  emo- 
tion which  had  hardly  been  surpassed  at  Glen's  Falls 

"  We  soon  found  ourselves  entering  a  region  which  drew 
from  us  exclamations  of  increasing  delight  and  admiration. 
We  had  heard  that  the  pass  through  which  our  road  lay  was 
called  'The  Gulf,'  and  that  we  were  to  pass  the  range  which 
is  eminently  called  the  Green  Mountains,  not  by  scaling 
them,  as  before,  but  by  threading  a  valley  at  their  feet. 
Still,  so  little  was  said,  that  we  expected  little.  How  can  I 
express  our  feelings  when  the  true  glory  of  this  spot  was  re- 
vealed to  us  ?  Instead  of  ascending,  as  on  our  former  route, 
a  long  and  steep  cleft,  hemmed  in  on  each  side  by  precipices 
of  forests,  we  now  followed  a  road  of  easy  ascents  and  de- 
scents. On  one  side  the  bank  rose  suddenly,  so  that  its 
height  could  not  easily  be  seen ;  but  on  the  other  rushed  the 
branch  of  the  White  River,  removing  to  a  sufficient  distance 
the  mountains  from  which  it  separated  us,  so  as  to  enable  us 
to  see  distinctly  their  declivities,  and  outlines,  and  forests. 
In  our  former  passage,  we  left  our  carriage  from  necessity, 
—  here,  from  choice,  —  and  we  walked  perhaps  a  mile 
through  this  deep  valley,  lifting  our  astonished  eyes  to  the 
towering  and  beautiful  summits,  which  seemed  worthy  of  the 
region  tliey  inhabited. 

"  Represent  to  yourself  a  succession  of  mountains  through 
more  than  a  mile's  extent,  rising  almost  perpendicularly  from 
their  bases,  sometimes  stretching  before  us  in  a  line,  some- 
times forming  a  majestic  sweep,  opening  as  we  advanced,  .so 
as  to  discover  their  outlines  and  distinct  masses,  and  clothed 


NEWPORT.  199 

to  the  very  top  with  the  freshest,  richest,  most  luxuriant  fo- 
liage. I  was  astonished  to  see  such  perpendicular  heights, 
in  which  it  seemed  scarcely  possible  that  trees  should  take 
root,  so  closely  wooded  that  the  eye  could  B»t  discover  a 
speck  of  dark  earth  amidst  their  boundless  verdure.  To  say 
that  the  woods  were  green  would  give  you  no  idea  of  them. 
They  had  the  brightness  and  tenderness  of  spring,  with  the 
fulness  of  summer ;  and,  instead  of  presenting  a  confused 
mass  of  verdure,  their  tops  were  so  distinct,  that  the  grace 
and  majesty  of  particular  trees  might  easily  be  traced.  The 
light  and  temperature  favored  us,  and  we  lingered,  most  un- 
willing to  take  the  last  look." 

In  a  letter,  written  soon  after  his  return,  and  which  is 
of  additional  interest,  as  showing  how  solemn  were  his 
associations  with  the  scenery  of  Newport,  he  thus  refers 
to  the  influence  of  natural  beauty. 

"  Portsmouth,  Rhode  Island,  Sept.  6, 1821.  That  journey 
was  a  specimen  of  the  life  I  have  led  for  many  years.  One 
day  undoes  the  work  of  many  weeks.  When  I  seem  to  have 
gained  strength,  a  cold,  caught  I  know  not  how,  or  some 
derangement  of  the  system,  perhaps  produced  by  some  slight 
irregularity,  takes  from  me  my  power  of  body  and  mind,  and 
then  I  slowly  work  my  way  upwards,  to  fall  as  low  again. 

"  My  journey,  I  have  said,  was  not  lost ;  and  this  I  should 
say,  even  had  I  returned  without  one  additional  particle  of 
strength  ;  for  it  left  impressions  and  recollections  which  will 
make  me  richer  and  happier  for  life.  This  magnificent 
creation  has  been  to  me,  even  from  my  boyhood,  a  principal 
source  of  happiness ;  but  I  never  entered  into  its  spirit,  felt 
its  power  and  glories,  as  on  this  journey.  I  should  hardly 
dare  to  travel  over  the  same  ground  again,  lest  the  bright 
images  which  are  treasured  up  in  memory  should  be  dimmed 
by  a  second  sight. 


200 


EUROPEAN    JOURNEY. 


"  BlU  nature  was  not  my  chief  enjoyment.  I  owed  much 
to  my  companions,  who  gave  more  than  they  received. 
Perhaps,  if  I  were  to  name  the  circumstance  in  whicli  I  con- 
sider myself  most  enviably  distinguished,  I  should  say,  it  is 
the  intimacy  which  I  have  enjoyed,  and  still  enjoy,  with  so 
many  of  the  first  and  best  of  your  sex.  I  could  not  have 
ended  my  journey  with  as  unrepining  a  spirit  as  I  did,  had  I 
not  hud  a  home  to  receive  me,  which  I  am  weak  enough  to 
think  the  best  home  on  earth,  and  which  had  gone  with  me 
and  secretly  mixed  with  all  my  joys  among  the  mountains, 
lakes,  and  rivers,  which  seemed  to  divide  me  from  it 

"  I  was  powerfully  reminded  of  the  early  years  of  my  life, 
when  these  shores  were  my  favorite  and  almost  constant 
haunts.  Then,  before  I  knew  you,  I  had  not  '  found  rest  to 
my  soul,'  for  I  was  very  much  a  stranger  to  true  religion. 
My  spirit,  consumed  with  passionate  fires,  thirsted  for  some 
unknown  good,  and  my  body  pined  away  to  a  shadow  under 
the  workings  of  a  troubled  mind.  Then  I  spent  almost  whole 
days  on  the  sea-shore,  where  the  raajest)^  and  power  of  na- 
ture, absorbing,  exalting  me,  and  transporting  me  beyond 
myself,  ministered  most  happily  to  the  diseased  soul.  Strange 
as  it  may  seem,  I  can  recollect  that  I  became  buoyant  and 
exhilarated  in  proportion  to  the  wildness  and  sublimity  around 
me,  and  I  leaped  for  joy  when  a  wave,  which  seemed  to 
menace  ruin,  broke  on  the  rock  where  I  stood,  and  mounted 
in  clouds  to  the  skies.  Thanks  to  God,  those  days  of  tumult 
ai'e  past,  and  an  existence,  the  beginning  -of  which  is  still  a 
mystery  to  me,  and  which  was  wrapt  in  many  clouds,  has 
opened  into  blessings  which  I  should  not  have  dared  to  an- 
ticipate," 


It  was  at  the  close  of  the  month  of  May,  1822,  that 
Mr.  Channing  bade  farewell  to  his  three  blooming  chil- 
dren,  to  his   parent,    family,   friends,    society,  and,   in 


PARTING    WORDS.  201 

company  with  his  wife,  sailed  for  England.     On  the  eve 
of  departure,  he  thus  wrote  to  his  mother  ;  — 

"  Maij  27th,  1822. 

"  My  Dear  Mother  :  —  I  cannot  go  without  leaving  you 
a  line.  At  this  moment,  when  I  think  of  my  approaching 
separation  from  you,  I  recall,  with  more  than  usual  tender- 
ness, your  affection  and  your  claims,  and  I  pray  God  to  re- 
ward and  crown  you  with  his  best  blessings. 

"  It  is  one  of  my  greatest  griefs,  that  I  do  not  leave  you  in 
better  health,  and  I  beg  you  to  neglect  no  means  of  building 
it  up.  I  inclose  a  hundred  dollars,  which  I  wish  you  to 
spend  very  much  for  this  object. 

"  I  cannot  but  believe  that  you  would  be  happier,  if  you 
would  relinquish  housekeeping  ;  and  you  will  see,  in  my 
letter  from  Lucy,  how  entirely  she  agrees  with  me.  Ruth 
joins  with  me  in  assuring  you,  that,  if  you  could  be  happy  at 
our  house  on  our  return,  we  should  rejoice  to  receive  you. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  be  anxious  about  us.  We  sail  under 
every  advantage,  and  I  have  a  cheering  hope  that  I  shall  re- 
turn to  be  more  to  my  family  and  people  than  I  have  been. 
You  will  often  hear  from  us,  either  immediately  or  through 
other  friends ;  and  should  any  thing  prevent  free  communi- 
cation, you  will  remember  that  we  are  always  under  the  care 
of  Him  who  alone  makes  home  a  place  of  safety,  and  who 
can  make  every  place  equally  secure.  My  spirits  are  won- 
derfully sustained.  I  go  with  a  cheerful,  confiding  mind, 
and  hope  that,  whilst  I  am  remembered  with  affection,  I  shall 
not  be  with  sorrow. 

"  My  dear  mother,  may  many  years  be  added  to  your 
life,  and  may  they  be  brightened  by  the  increasing  affection, 
usefulness,  and  virtues  of  your  children.  You  will  be  the 
object  of  my  daily  prayers,  and  I  know  I  shall  not  be  forgot- 
ten in  yours. 

"  Your  grateful  and  affectionate  son." 


203  EUROPEAN   J  JURNEY. 

With  the  aid  of  extracts  selected  from  his  journals  and 
correspondence,  let  us  now  rapidly  follow  Mr.  Channing 
during  a  year  which,  with  all  its  rich  experiences,  was  to 
him  one  of  exile,  rather  than  of  enjoyment.  And  first, 
from  the  notes  of  his  voyage,  we  will  take  a  few  passages 
which  manifest  the  buoyant,  fresh  joy  with  wliich  he 
watched  die  changes  of  ocean. 

"  June  25.  On  this  day  I  was  exhilarated  by  a  truly  mag- 
nificent scene.  The  wind  was  strong  and  fair,  and  had 
called  the  ocean,  after  its  long  repose,  into  new  life.  The 
sky,  obscured  with  clouds,  gave  to  the  waves  that  dark,  pol- 
ished hue,  for  which  I  can  find  no  name,  and  which  is  one  of 
their  most  beautiful  colors.  Exceedingly  minute  ripples 
hurried,  swept,  flew  over  the  surface,  and  marked  the  fleet- 
ness  of  the  wind  as  distinctly  as  if  that  subtile  element  had 
become  the  object  of  sight.  Every  sail  was  expanded  and 
swelled  into  a  graceful  form,  as  if  eager  to  enjoy  the  favor- 
ing breeze.  The  ship  seemed  to  have  caught  the  life  and 
spirit  of  the  elements,  rushing  forward,  as  for  a  prize,  cleav- 
ing the  dark  waves,  and  dashing  them  from  her  sides  in  an 
azure  sparkling  brine  and  a  foam  of  snowy  whiteness,  as  if 
to  brighten  and  deck  her  triumphant  flight.  In  such  mo- 
ments, the  soul  seems  to  add  to  its  own  energies  the  power 
which  is  vivifying  nature  and  exults  in  the  consciousness  of  a 
more  intense  existence 

"  The  sight  of  the  sea-bird  struck  me  with  its  loneliness. 
I  thought  of  its  spending  the  night  on  the  ocean.  But  I  re- 
membered that  it  had  no  home  to  forget,  and  considered 
what  a  bed  it  must  find  on  the  waves.  The  sea-bird  is 
rocked  in  nature's  cradle,  and  enjoys  a  sleep  which  few  find 
on  shore.  IJow  many,  torn  with  passion  or  remorse,  might 
envy  it!  There  is  a  striking  contrast  in  die  rough,  mighty 
ocean  being  thus  the  chosen  dwelling  of  repose 


GALE    AT    SEA.  J203 

"  The  soul  and  nature  are  attuned  together.  Something 
within  answers  to  all  we  witness  without.  When  I  look  on 
the  ocean  in  its  might  and  tumult,  my  spirit  is  stirred,  swelled. 
Wlien  it  spreads  out  in  peaceful  blue  waves,  under  a  bright 
sky,  it  is  dilated,  yet  composed.  I  enter  inf5  the  spirit  of 
the  earth,  and  this  is  always  good.  Nature  breathes  nothing 
unkind.  It  expands,  or  calms,  or  softens  us.  Let  us  open 
our  souls  to  its  influences 

"  The  ocean  is  said  to  rage,  but  never  so  to  me.  I  see 
life,  joy,  in  its  wild  billows,  rather  than  rage.  It  is  full  of 
spirit,  eagerness.  In  a  storm,  we  are  not  free  to  look  at  the 
ocean  as  an  object  of  sentiment.  Danger  then  locks  up  the 
soul  to  its  true  influence.  At  a  distance  from  it,  we  might 
contemplate  it  as  a  solemn  minister  of  Divine  justice  and  wit- 
ness of  God's  power  to  a  thoughtless  world  ;  but  we  could 
associate  with  it  only  moral  ideas, —  not  a  blind  rage.  At 
least,  I  have  seen  nothing  which  gives  nature  an  unkind  ex- 
pression  

"  We  talk  of  old  ocean,  hoary  ocean  ;  I  cannot  associate 
age  with  it.  It  is  too  buoyant,  animated,  living.  Its  crest 
of  foam  is  not  hoariness,  but  the  breaking  forth  of  life. 
Ocean  is  perpetual  youth 

"  In  a  gale,  you  are  struck  with  the  tumultuous  restless- 
ness of  the  ocean.  Instead  of  lengthened  waves,  it  mounts 
and  swells  irregularly,  as  if  too  full  of  life,  too  impatient,  to 
submit  to  any  rule.  The  waves  chase  one  another  eagerly, 
and  with  an  intractable  vehemence,  and  break  and  whiten 
through  excess  of  spirit.  They  do  not  seem  to  rise  by  a 
foreign  impulse,  but  spontaneously,  exultingly.  You  are  re- 
minded of  the  agency  of  the  wind,  not  by  the  large,  precipi- 
tous masses  of  water  which  are  tossed  so  confusedly  around 
you,  for  these  seem  instinct  with  their  own  life  ;  you  see  the 
wind  in  their  torn,  and  ruffled,  and  swept  surfaces,  and  in 
the  spray  which  flashes  and  is  whirled  and  scattered  from 
their  tops.     It  is  truly  an  animating  scene.     You  feel  your- 


204  EUROPEAN    JUUIINEV. 

self  in  the  midst  of  life  and  power,  and  licar  air  and  ocean 
joining  their  voices  of  might  to  inspire  a  kindred  energy. 
There  is  awe,  —  not  a  depressing,  but  triumphant  awe.  Our 
spirits  mix  with  the  elements,  and  partake  the  fulness  of 
their  power. 

"  There  is  constant  variety  in  such  a  scene.  The  '  trough,' 
as  the  sailor  calls  it,  is,  in  fact,  a  valley  in  the  ocean  and, 
on  each  side,  waves  higher  than  the  ship  bound  your  view. 
In  a  moment,  you  ride  on  these  mountains,  and  a  wide  hori- 
zon opens  on  you,  the  distinct  line  of  which  is  broken  by 
heaps  of  ocean,  sometimes  rising  into  peaks,  which  break  as 
soon  as  formed,  and  give  place  to  new  creations.  Vast  struc- 
tures thus  grow  and  vanish  almost  in  an  instant,  and  the  eye 
finds  no  resting-place  in  the  perpetual  revolutions.  The 
waves,  swelling  above,  and  approaching,  as  if  to  overwhelm 
you,  though  they  do  not  alarm,  show  a  power  so  akin  to  de- 
struction, as  to  give  a  momentary  sensation  of  danger,  and 
the  spirit  feels  something  of  the  pleasure  of  escape,  when  the 
ship  is  seen  to  triumph  over  its  invaders. 

"  There  is,  too,  a  feeling  of  elevation,  when,  in  such  a 
scene,  where  nature  is  in  uproar,  and  putting  forth  around 
ns  her  mightiest  energies,  we  are  conscious  of  inward  se- 
renity, feel  ourselves  unshaken  in  the  tumult  and  alive  to 
adoration  and  joy.  The  soul  has  a  consciousness  of  great- 
ness, in  possessing  itself,  and  in  converting  into  the  nourish- 
ment of  its  noblest  emotions  the  might  and  majesty  of  the 
universe 

"  There  is  great  beauty  joined  with  this  majesty,  as  tljrough 
all  nature.  We  seldom  see  more  power.  The  awful  moun- 
tain top  delights  to  bathe  its  grandeur  in  the  richest,  softest 
beams  of  the  rising  or  setting  sun  ;  sweet  flowers  wave  and 
smile  in  the  chasms  of  the  precipice  :  and  so  the  mountain 
billow  often  breaks  into  sparkling  spray,  and  the  transparent 
arch  beneath  shines  with  an  emerald  brightness,  which  has 
hardly  a  rival  in  the  richest  hues  of  the  vegetable  creation. 


HABITS    OF    OBSEKVATION.  205 

"  After  witnessing  a  gale,  I  was  shut  up  for  several  days 
m  the  cabin,  and  did  not  return  to  the  deck,  until  a  remark- 
able change  had  taken  place.  A  calm  had  succeeded.  It 
was  hard  to  connect  what  I  now  saw  with  my  last  view  of 
the  ocean,  to  feel  that  I  was  looking  on  the  same  element. 
The  irregular,  broken,  wildly  tossing,  tumultuous  billows  had 
vanished,  and  lengthened,  continuous,  slowly  advancing 
swells  followed  one  another,  not  as  in  pursuit,  but  as  if  find- 
ing pleasure  in  gentle  motion. 

"  Instead  of  bursting  into  foam,  or  being  tossed  into  infinite 
inequalities  by  the  swecpin"g,  hurrying  winds,  their  polished, 
molten  surface,  whilst  varied  by  soft  flowing  lines,  was  un- 
ruffled by  a  single  breath.  They  seemed,  as  they  rolled  in 
regular  intervals  towards  us,  like  the  gentle  heaving  of  a 
sleeping  infant's  breast.  I  did  not  feel  as  if  the  ocean  was 
exhausted  by  its  late  efforts,  but  as  if,  having  accomplished 
its  manifestations  of  awe-inspiring  m.ight,  it  was  now  execut- 
ing a  more  benignant  ministry,  speaking  of  the  mercy  and 
the  blissful  rest  of  God.  Perhaps  no  image  of  repose  is  so 
perfect  as  the  tranquillity  of  an  element  so  powerful  and  so 
easily  wrought  into  tumult.     I  looked,  and  was  at  peace." 

The  following  hints  may  serve  to  illustrate  the  observ- 
ant and  inquiring  habits  of  the  writer.  He  was  appar- 
ently reading,  at  the  time,  Playfair,  and  Brande's  His- 
tory of  Chemistry,  the  progress  of  which  science  he 
watched  through  life  with  eager  expectation  and  admiring 
awe. 

"  The  light  and  heat  of  the  sun  on  the  ocean  may  seem 
unprofitable.  Not  so.  The  heat  is  absorbed  in  vapor,  and, 
when  given  out  by  condensation  of  vapor  into  rain,  it  is  im- 
parted to  the  atmosphere.  Hence  good  done  by  raining,  at 
sea,  as  well  as  on  land.     Air  is  softened 

"  Heat  greater  at  sea  than  on  shore,  because  so  much 

VOL.    II.  18 


206  EUROPEAN    JOURNEY. 

heat  is  evolved  by  evaporation  and  condensation,  less  ab- 
sorbed than  on  shore.  Hence  islands  warmer,  especially  if 
fogs  predominate 

"  The  wind  not  useless  on  ocean.  Evaporation  greatly 
produced  by  succession  of  strata  of  air,  and  hy  forms  given 
to  waves,  —  the  curve.  Does  not  motion,  too,  separating  the 
spray,  favor  evaporation  ? 

"  Evaporation  and  condensation,  —  may  they  not  purifr 
atmosphere  ?  Rain  water  not  pure.  May  not  this  action  i.- 
the  atmosphere  do  good  ?  How  far  may  electricity  be 
evolved  in  these  processes  ?  We  speak  of  air  as  close,  sti- 
fling, &c.,  and  its  fitness  for  respiration  depends  on  what  we 
cannot  discover.  Electricity  a  cause.  There  is  constant 
solution  and  crystallization  of  salt  in  ocean,  by  evaporation 
and  rain.     Is  no  electricity  generated  here  .^ 

"  The  heat  given,  by  formation  of  vapor,  to  upper  regions 
of  atmosphere  may  be  very  useful ;  for,  were  they  not  thus 
heated,  the  contrast  between  them  and  those  lower  might  be 
so  great,  as  to  render  the  exchange  which  takes  place  be- 
tween them  injurious.  Heated  air  ascends,  and  is  replaced, 
one  would  th'uik,  from  above 

"  The  ocean  preserved  from  heat  by  evaporation.  Hence, 
winds,  passing  over  it,  refresh  warm  countries.  This  heat, 
withdrawn  from  the  surface,  is  given  out  by  condensation  in 
upper  regions  which  need  it.    What  a  beautiful  order  ! 

"  What  a  beautiful  appointment,  that  the  sun,  which  heats 
and  dries  the  earth,  should  raise  the  cloud  to  shelter  it,  and 
tlie  rain  to  moisten  it ;  and  that  heat,  which  seems,  at  fii^st, 
at  war  with  moisture,  should  conjoin  with  it  in  rearing  the 
plant !  

"  Nature  subsists  by  counteracting  powers  ;  and  in  this  we 
see  wisdom,  arrangement,  beauty 

"  Moisture  the  universal  nutriment,  and  what  a  noble  foun- 
tain of  it ! 

"  Strong  winds  at  sea  are  essential  to  the  fulfilment  of  its 


ARRIVAL   AT    LIVERPOOL.  207 

functions,  —  to  evaporation  and  transportation  of  vapor,  as 
well  as  to  navigation.  The  ocean  useless  without  wind,  and 
how  it  is  swept  by  it ! 

"  A  beautiful  appointment,  that  the  sun  gives  impulse  to 
the  winds,  by  which  his  beams  are  mitigated-^n  shore,  by 
which  the  vapor  of  ocean  is  multiplied  and  transported,  and, 
of  course,  by  which  the  earth  is  preserved  from  being 
parched 

"  How  beneficial  is  motion  in  air  and  sea  !  Elements  ca- 
pable of  being  quickened  by  heat  keep  the  balance  of  the 
universe 

"Great  powers  in  the  universe,  balancing  one  another  by 
mighty  energy,  make  creation  more  interesting.  Would  not 
less  intensity  of  heat,  creating  and  requiring  less  motion  of 
winds,  vapors,  sea,  be  attended  with  less  activity  of  animal 
and  vegetable  nature  ?  These  great  powers  in  nature  call 
forth  great  energy  and  skill  in  man,  give  impulse  and  life  to 
the  soul,  reveal  the  sublimity  and  beauty  of  creation 

"  What  immense  distributions  of  moisture  and  equaliza- 
lions  of  temperature  are  needed  !  Are  the  agents  too 
mighty  ?  " 

On  landing  at  Liverpool,  Mr.  Channing  met  with  the 
warmest  welcome  from  many  liberal-minded  friends, 
whose  hearts  had  been  already  prepared,  by  his  writings 
and  reputation,  to  receive  him.  But  he  found  himself 
utterly  unfitted,  by  weakness  and  depression,  to  bear  the 
pleasing  excitement  of  forming  acquaintances  ;  and,  has- 
tily bidding  farewell  to  the  intelligent,  humane,  refined, 
and  munificent  circle  which  opened  to  him  their  hospita- 
ble homes,  he  departed  upon  his  journey  to  the  Lakes. 
A  few  extracts  from  his  journals  will  show  what  refresh- 
ment he  found  amidst  the  exquisite  scenery  of  Westmore- 
land and  Cumberland. 


208  EUROPEAN    JOURNEY. 

''■  Lancaster,  h\\y  11.  The  castle  at  Lancaster  is,  to  a 
stranger,  singularly  interesting.  It  was  the  first  noble  monu- 
ment I  had  seen  of  times  which,  however  fierce  and  lawless, 
must  still  be  regarded  as  rich  to  overflowing  in  generous 
feeling,  and  as  containing,  in  a  rude  state,  the  principles  of 
the  great  social  changes  which  have  since  been  developed. 
Jt  is  now  a  heterogeneous  mass,  —  the  modern  additions 
seeming  to  be  in  fine  taste,  when  viewed  in  detached  parts, 
but  having  no  unity,  and  wholly  failing  in  correspondence 
with  the  remains  of  the  ancient  fabric.  The  chief  of  these 
is  a  gateway,  protected  by  two  towers,  the  battlements  over- 
hanging the  base,  and  bearing  record  to  the  violence  of  an 
age  when  lordly  power  felt  the  want  of  a  security  that  is 
now  enjoyed  equally  by  the  high  and  low. 

"  This  castle,  of  which  Edward  the  Third  was  the  found- 
er, once  the  seat  of  strength  and  magnificence  of  the  dukes 
of  Lancaster,  is  now  crowded  with  felons,  debtors,  lunatics, 
and  has  become  a  workshop  for  convicts,  an  asylum  for 
madness,  a  court-house,  with  its  jury-rooms,  crown  and 
county  halls,  and  the  labyrinth  of  offices  in  which  justice  so 
often  loses  her  way.  What  a  monument  this  singular 
building  is  of  the  spirit  and  condition  of  past  and  present 
times !  The  hammer  once  sounded  here,  riveting  arms  ; 
the  culprit  now  wields  it  in  forging  the  most  vulgar  utensils 
for  the  cook  or  ploughboy.  Once  it  set  at  defiance  the  au- 
thority of  the  state,  and  the  owner  measured  all  rights  by 
the  sword  ;  now  the  judge,  with  no  signs  of  power  but  an 
enormous  wig  and  robe,  administers,  we  hope  impartially, 
equal  laws,  to  which  the  lives  and  property  of  all  orders  are 
subject.  Once  it  resounded  with  shouts,  the  neigh  of  steeds, 
the  clang  of  armor,  the  joyful  tumult  of  a  boundless  hospi- 
tality ;  now  the  taskmaster  metes  out  cheerless  labors  to  the 
guilty  or  unfortunate  prisoners,  and  the  high  orders  of  soci- 
ety enter  it  only  to  break  its  silence  with  the  jargon  of  law 
or  the  sentence  of  death.     That  was  an  age  of  wild,  unre- 


THE    LAKES.  209 

strained  action  of  our  nature,  when  society  was  now  shaken 
by  the  whirlwinds  of  passion,  now  brightened  by  flashes  of 
heroic,  generous  feeling,  when  man  was  a  terror  or  a  gloiy 
in  his  sphere,  when  stronger  dependencies  and^ore  relent- 
less passions,  more  devoted  attachments  and  more  desolat- 
ing feuds,  gave  society  at  once  a  more  delightful  and  yet  a 
more  fearful  interest  than  at  present.  How  various  is  our 
nature !  How  shall  we  unite  into  one  social  state  the  virtues, 
principles,  joys,  which  have  marked  its  different  stages  ?  " 

July  13//j  to  \8th.  "  I  am  now  at  Pooley's  Bridge,  Ulles 
Water,  and  have  to  look  back  on  days  of  activity,  enjoyment, 
and  various  perceptions  and  sensations  which  can  hardly  be 
recalled.  Scenes  of  grandeur,  and  wildness,  and  beauty 
have  passed  before  my  eyes  and  through  my  mind  so  rap- 
idly, that  I  shrink  from  the  task  of  separating  them.  My 
pleasure  has  been  greatly  impaired  by  the  state  of  my 
health,  fettering  me  amidst  most  alluring  objects,  checking 
my  ascent  of  hills,  forbidding  me  to  penetrate  depths  and 
moist  places,  to  expose  myself  to  the  damp  winds  of  the 
lakes,  &c.     Still  I  have  enjoyed  much. 

"  Saturday  I  spent  on  Windermere,  a  lake  of  great  beauty, 
the  most  cheerful  of  this  glorious  company,  spreading  into 
wider  expanses',  seeming  less  desirous  of  privacy  and  soli- 
tude, and  encircled  with  banks  less  high  and  precipitous,  as 
if  it  wished  greater  communion  with  nature.  It  has  more 
beauty  than  any  I  have  seen.  It  is  twelve  miles  long  and 
perhaps  three  miles  in  its  greatest  breadth  ;  but  its  width 
generally  is  less,  so  that  the  opposite  banks  may  be  compre- 
hended in  one  view,  and  their  projections  made  to  combine 
with  the  islands  to  give  almost  an  infinite  variety  to  its  mild 
surface.  Its  distinguishing  charm  lies  in  its  finely  marked 
and  varied  outline.  Here  the  land  gently  swells  into  the 
lake,  and  there  the  water  seeks  a  more  deep  repose  in  bays 
or  coves  which  it  has  formed  by  a  kindly  soliciting  influence 
from  the  shore.  There  are  occasionally  points  of  some 
18* 


210  EUROPEAN    JOURNEY. 

boldness,  enough  to  prevent  tameness.  But  the  land  and 
water  seem  never  to  have  contended  for  empire.  Where 
the  former  advances,  it  is  gradually,  not  by  sharp,  angular 
projections,  but  graceful  curves,  and  it  clothes  itself  with  a 
richer,  fresher  verdure,  as  if  to  shed  new  glory  over  the 
lake  ;  and  when  the  water  encroaches,  you  might  easily 
imagine  that  it  was  only  that  it  might  spread  a  calm  surface 
beneath  the  hills,  to  reflect  more  vividly  their  forms  and 
hues. 

"  The  islands  are  numerous,  varying  in  size,  and  to  one 
who  sails  on  the  lake,  their  combinations  with  one  another 
and  with  the  shore  open  an  almost  endless  number  of  chan- 
nels, and  form  mazes  of  beauty  which  allure  the  eye  and 
stimulate  the  imagination  by  partially  disclosed  scenery  and 
a  mysterious  intricacy.  These  islands  and  the  shores  in 
general,  through  culture  and  the  kindness  of  this  moist  cli- 
mate, are  clothed  in  a  robe  of  rich  verdure,  and  some  of 
the  former  are  finely  wooded,  so  that  the  lovely  hues  of  the 
reflected  heavens  and  the  vernal  earth  are  blended  together. 
In  some  parts  the  shore  is  almost  level  with  the  water,  so 
that  in  a  calm  the  line  which  severs  them  is  lost,  and  the 
spirit  of  peace  which  breathes  here  seems  to  blend  these 
opposite  elements  into  one.  At  other  times,  it  swells  gently, 
and  then  more  boldly,  though  I  do  not  recollect  a  single 
fronting  crag.  At  the  northern  termination,  however,  nioun- 
tains  of  a  wild  grandeur,  somewhat  softened  by  distance, 
rear  their  heads,  as  if  by  contrast  to  increase  the  impression 
of  the  generally  peaceful  character  of  the  lake.  I  cannot 
say,  however,  that,  in  the  elevations  or  hills  which  skirt  most 
of  the  lake,  I  saw  much  beauty,  except  as  they  were  gener- 
ally verdant.  Their  outlines  have  no  peculiar  grace.  The 
lake,  too,  sometimes  resembles  a  river  too  much. 

"  I  did  not  find  that  the  positions  which  commanded  the 
widest  views,  and  which  are  therefore  selected  as  favorite 
spots  by  tourists,  were  always  the  best.    Wide  views  seldom 


GRASSMERE.  211 

have  that  harmony  on  which  unity  of  impression  depends, 
and  the  mind  suffers  from  a  variety  which  gives  it  a  shock 
by  discords  of  hues  and  forms,  or  at  least  dissipates  it  too 
much  to  allow  of  the  feeling  of  concentrated  joy. 

"  The  day  was  peculiarly  favorable,  and,  though  I  sailed 
at  noon,  the  prospect  was  not  injured  by  a  glaring  or  monot- 
onous light,  The  clouds  veiled  the  sky,  but  occasionally 
parted  to  throw  gleams  of  lustre  on  island,  shore,  or  lake  ; 
whilst  a  gentle  intermitting  breeze  now  drew  ti'ansient, 
slowly  moving  ripples  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  now 
left  the  element  unbroken,  as  if  to  fulfil  its  office  of  respond- 
ing in  perfect  harmony  to  the  heavens 

"  The  effect  of  stations  depends  very  much  on  the  light, 
and  the  condition  of  the  atmosphere.  The  same  prospect  is 
an  entirely  different  thing  at  sunrise  or  sunset,  under  a 
warm  or  a  cold  sky.  I  feel  that  I  have  done  little  justice  to 
the  lakes,  and  the  scenery  round  them,  in  my  hasty  view. 
To  see  a  fine  prospect  under  one  light' is  like  looking  at  a 
countenance  in  a  single  attitude  and  with  one  expression. 
No  wonder  that  many  are  disappointed,  and  that  descrip- 
tions are  given  of  this  country  which  seem,  to  travellers  who 
see  it  at  different  seasons,  wholly  fictitious.  Beauty  depends 
on  connection  and  harmony.  A  feature  of  a  prospect,  which, 
when  thrown  into  shade  or  softened  by  mist,  gives  to  its 
whole  a  great  charm,  may  become  a  deformity,  when  seen 
through  a  clear  atmosphere  under  a  bright  sun.  I  know,  as 
yet,  little  of  this  country's  powers  and  resources  in  relation 
to  the  imagination,  although  I  have  seen  enough  to  delight 
me,  and  make  me  wish  to  spend  a  season  here 

"  Next  we  visited  Grassmere  Water,  —  a  sacred  spot,  a 
seclusion  from  all  that  is  turbulent  and  unholy  in  life.  It 
was  near  sunset  as  we  approached  this  water.  We  found 
ourselves  descending  a  mount  called  Loughrigg  into  a  val- 
ley, in  which  reposed  this  sweet  lake,  unrufiled,  smooth, 
hemmed  in  by  sheltering  mountains.     The  solemn  heights 


212  EUROPEAN    JOURXEY. 

towards  the  setting  sun  showed  to  us  their  dark  sides  re- 
flected with  wonderful  distinctness  in  the  still  bosom  of  the 
lake,  within  whose  waters  they  seemed  to  find  even  a 
quieter  abode  than  in  the  tranquil  heavens  into  which  their 
tops  ascended.  This  repetition  of  the  dark  sides  of  the 
mountains  threw  a  solemn  shade  over  the  part  of  the  lake 
to  which  the  reflection  was  confined,  whilst  beyond  this  line 
a  mild  light,  answering  to  that  of  the  heavens,  and  of  other 
mountains,  gleamed  from  the  water,  investing  it  at  one  mo- 
ment with  various,  but  not  inharmonious,  forms  of  beauty. 

"  The  effect  of  this  lake  on  the  spirit  was  immediate, 
deep,  penetrating  the  inmost  soul,  and  awakening  a  feeling 
of  something  profound  in  one's  own  nature.  Windermere 
was  tranquil,  but  it  had  a  cheerful  tranquillity.  Its  genius 
was  peace,  but  peace  with  a  smiling  aspect,  wooing  society 
and  sympathy.  Grassmere  seemed  to  be  spread  out  in  the 
mountain  recesses  as  an  abode  for  lonely,  silent,  pensive 
meditation,  —  for  the  inspired  imagination,  which,  in  still  ab- 
straction from  vulgar  realities,  would  give  itself  up  to  ideal 
beauty,  —  for  the  spirit  of  love,  which,  wearied  with  man's 
strifes  and  passions,  would  meet  and  commune  with  a  kin- 
dred spirit  in  nature,  —  for  piety  to  approach  God  without 
distraction,  to  see  him  in  the  harmony,  to  hear  him  in  the 
silence  of  his  creation.  The  character  of  this  place  is  that 
of  seclusion,  but  not  of  stern  or  sorrowful  seclusion,  con- 
genial with  the  mind  which  injury  or  disappointment  has 
made  impatient  or  sick  of  the  world.  It  invites  rather  the 
mild  enthusiast,  who  amidst  the  deformities  of  life  still  sees 
what  is  lovely  in  human  nature,  and  at  a  distance  from  the 
tumults  of  society  would  resign  himself  to  visions  of  moral 
beauty,  of  perfect  loveliness,  and  of  sublime  virtue,  un- 
known on  earth, —  who  is  conscious  of  the  capacities  of  hu- 
man nature  for  what  is  good  and  great,  and  desires,  under 
the  kindliest  influences  of  the  universe,  to  call  forth  into 
new  life  these  high  principles  in  his  own  soul. 


'iRASSMKRE.  213 

"  On  descending  to  this  sweet  lake,  I  felt  my  spirit  stilled, 
as  if  I  were  throwing  off  the  robe  of  this  world's  cares  and 
passions,  and  escaping  into  a  region  of  more  than  human 
purity  and  peace,  without,  however,  losing  my  human  sym- 
pathies. •^ 

"  The  lake  has  not  left,  perhaps,  very  definite  traces  of 
figure,  &c.,  on  my  mind,  for  in  such  a  scene  the  mind  is 
not  stimulated  to  analyze.  The  heart  and  imagination  are 
too  absorbed  for  curious  observation.  It  is  rather  circular, 
and  wants  the  multiplied  diversities  of  outline,  the  points, 
bays,  recesses  of  Windermere,  and  this,  perhaps,  aids  its 
effect,  for  the  eye  is  not  excited  to  wander  in  search  of 
beauties  half  hid  in  mazy  openings.  The  soul  is  free  to 
receive  an  unmixed  impression  from  the  simple,  harmonious 
scene.  When  it  is  said  that  the  surrounding  mountains  are 
bold,  some  precipitous,  and  one  of  them  a  rugged  steep 
seamed  with  storms  and  strewed  with  rocky  fragments,  it 
may  seem  strange  that  the  lake  can  have  the  character  of 
mild  repose  which  has  been  ascribed  to  it ;  but,  spreading 
as  it  does  in  a  circle,  it  so  parts  the  surrounding  mountains, 
that  they  cannot  be  grouped  as  if  they  bordered  a  narrower 
stream,  and  thus  they  become  subordinate  accompaniments 
to,  instead  of  being  the  chief  features  of,  the  prospect. 
Then  the  immediate  shore  of  the  lake  is  level  and  verdant, 
and  blends  singularly  with  the  peaceful  water.  This  is  par- 
ticularly true  with  respect  to  the  vale,  properly  so  called, 
which  spreads  between  the  head  of  Grassmere  and  Helm's 
Crag,  whose  surface  is  almost  as  unbroken  as  the  lake,  and 
which,  clothed  as  it  is  with  the  freshest  verdure,  varied  by 
hedgerows,  and  combining  with  its  natural  beauty  the  most 
aflTecting  tokens  of  humanity  by  its  simple  cottages  and 
Gothic  churches,  communicates  an  inexpressible  character 
of  peace  and  benignity,  and  of  gentle  and  holy  sweetness,  to 
the  whole  scene.  The  mountains  thus  severed  from  one 
another,  and  rising  from  so  peaceful  a  foundation,  seem  ex- 


214  EUROPEAN    JOURNEY. 

nlted  only  to  guard  the  sacred  seclusion  of  the  lake  from  (he 
profanation  of  worldly  passions,  that  it  may  hold  pure  inter- 
course with  the  mild  and  pure  sky,  which  it  reflects  so  tran- 
quilly, with  the  glorious  sun,  and  the  genial  breezes.  In 
such  spots  we  can  hardly  help  believing  in  a  better  exist- 
ence than  this,  for  we  seem  to  have  entered  its  confines. 
A  faith  springs  up,  not  the  less  sincere  or  unreal  because 
the  growth  of  sentiment,  a  faith  in  the  high  purposes  of  our 
being,  and  our  capacity  of  purer  joys  than  we  experience  in 
our  ordinary  modes  of  life. 

"  There  is  a  melancholy  in  visiting  such  scenes  as  I  have 
now  described  ;  but  is  this  their  direct  and  natural  effect, 
or  does  it  spring  from  a  silent  consciousness  of  the  differ- 
ence between  our  perturbed  state  and  the  intense  quiet  of 
soul  breathed  into  us  by  such  a  spot  ?  Wc  feel  Grassmere 
to  be  a  shelter ;  but  a  shelter  includes  the  idea  of  the  storms 
of  passion.  Thus  a  sad  sense  of  our  actual  being  mingles 
with  aspirations  for  a  higher  existence  ;  but  this  sadness  is 
so  tempered  and  subdued  by  the  power  of  the  beautiful 
scene,  that  it  becomes  a  tender,  grateful,  melancholy  feel- 
ing. A  more  delicious  state  of  heart  and  mind  than  comes 
from  those  blended  emotions  is,  perhaps,  unknown  to  human 
nature 

"  This  country  owes  its  interest  chiefly  to  its  mountains, 
for  without  these  its  lakes  would  be  of  little  note.  These 
are  the  grand  features  of  every  scene  ;  they  not  only  cause 
the  valleys  and  masses  of  water,  but  give  them  their  peculiar 
beauty,  their  tranquil  sweetness,  or  their  secluded  solemnity. 
These  mountains  surpass  all  others  which  I  have  seen  in  ex- 
pression and  spirit.  They  are,  indeed,  sometimes  fantastic, 
but  seldom  or  never  tame  or  heavy.  Their  outline  is,  for 
the  most  part,  sweeping  and  graceful,  though  frequently 
broken  by  craggj-  precipices  and  abrupt  steeps.  They  are 
not  arranged  in  long  lines,  but  arc  thrown  together  in  a 
bold,  irregular  style,  so  that  they  combine  with  one  another 


CONSCIENTIOUSNESS.  213 

m  endless  variety,  hrilf  concealing  each  other,  giving  im- 
agination scope,  and  opening  labyrinths  of  sweet  valleys. 
Their  sides  present  a  diversified  surface,  now  fine  swells, 
and  then  chasms  or  furrows,  worn  by  torrents  and  rough- 
ened by  projecting  rocks.  All  these  combine'^to  give  them 
an  air  of  wild  grandeur ;  and  the  quiet  valleys  and  lakes 
give  an  inexpressible  charm,  when  seen  reposing  amidst  and 
beneath  these  stern  and  rugged  guardians.  The  calm,  still 
water  reflecting  the  mountains,  especially  when  thrown  into 
solemn  shade,  has  singular  power  over  the  mind.  Commu- 
nicating as  it  does  its  own  tranquil  spirit  to  the  romantic 
forms  which  it  receives  into  its  bosom,  it  seems  to  manifest 

a  peace-breathing  influence  which  nothing  can  resist 

"  I  was  not  so  deeply  impressed  by  any  mountain  as  by 
Skiddaw,  which  is  the  more  remarkable,  as  having  nothing 
of  the  wild  character  that  I  have  noticed  in  the  other  moun- 
tains. Its  distinction  is  tranquil  majesty.  It  rises  gradually 
and  with  extensive  sweeps  from  the  valley,  and  its  outline 
is  more  flowing  than  that  of  any  of  its  numberless  asso- 
ciates. Yet,  so  bold  are  the  swells  on  its  surface ;  its  val- 
leys, if  we  may  so  call  them,  open  such  broad  expanses  to 
the  eye  ;  its  summits  stretch  along  the  horizon  with  such 
generous  freedom  ;  and  it  towers  with  an  expression  of  such 
spontaneous  energy,  that,  whilst  we  rest  on  its  mildness  with 
delight,  the  mind  is  dilated  with  a  feeling  of  its  grandeur. 
No  sublimity  is  so  real  as  that  which  makes  itself  deeply 
felt  in  union  with  beauty  ;  just  as  the  highest  moral  great- 
ness is  that  which,  whilst  it  awes  by  unshaken  constancy 
of  principle,  at  the  same  time  attracts  us  by  the  gentleness 
of  love.  Wild  scenes,  where  power  is  manifested  in  deso- 
lation, act  at  first  with  great  force  on  the  mind,  especially 
on  the  least  refined  ;  but  power  and  goodness  are  congenial 
and  the  highest  manifestations  of  power  are  benignant.  The 
power  which  reveals  itself  solemnly  amidst  beauty,  by  this 
very  circumstance  shows  its  grandeur,  and  acquires  a  more 


^-ii^Q  EUROPEAN    JOURNIY. 

enduring  sway  over  the  soul.  I  found  myself  never  wearied 
with  Skiddavv.  It  lifted  my  spirit.  Scenes  of  ruin  are  apt 
to  subdue  us ;  but  the  highest  forms  of  sublimity  exalt  us  by 
inspiring  a  consciousness  of  kindred  might.  And  such  was 
the  influence  of  this  mountain.  It  made  the  lake  and  all  sur- 
rounding objects  its  ministers.  The  mists  were  rolling  tran- 
quilly over  its  summits,  partial  lights  were  wandering  across 
its   face,  and   it  seemed  in  full  harmony  with  the  noblest 

agents  and  elements  of  nature 

"  There  is  one  most  happy  effect,  which  should  be  par- 
ticularly noticed.  Distance,  the  atmosphere,  fogs,  and  va- 
rious lights  give  to  the  tops  of  mountains  a  visionary,  some- 
times a  mysterious,  character,  better  felt  than  described, 
which  forms  a  most  interesting  contrast  with  the  general 
massiveness  of  their  foundations.  These  awful  forms  seem 
to  be  spiritualized  as  they  ascend,  till  they  blend  with  the 
pure  heavens,  and  sometimes  through  the  thin  mist  almost 
melt  into  air.  This  union  of  the  firmness  of  earth  with  the 
ethereal  brightness  of  the  slcies  gives  a  peculiar  charm  to 
mountains. .  In  fact,  they  unite  remarkably  opposite  expres- 
sions. By  their  foundations  they  seem  to  sink  into  the  earth, 
and  our  thoughts  are  carried  to  its  gloomiest  depths,  wliilst 
their  tops  aspire  to  heaven  and  dwell  in  a  region  of  peace 
and  splendor.  Whilst  we  are  impressed  by  the  huge  bulk 
and  weight  of  their  inert  forms,  their  visionary  tops  give 
them  the  appearance  of  belonging  to  the  pure  element  in 
which  they  live,  of  possessing  a  congenial  spirit  with  the 
free  and  buoyant  air,  and  of  having  risen  through  their  o\\  n 
life  and  energy  to  hold  communion  with  the  sun." 

We  have  already  seen  the  reverent  affection  with 
which  Mr.  Channing  regarded  Wordswortli,  and  it  will 
be  readily  understood,  therefore,  that  he  joyfully  availed 
himself  of  this  opportunity  to  seek  an  interview  with  the 
poet.  In  a  letter  to  a  sister  lie  thus  describes  his 
visit  :  — 


WORDSWORTH.  21'i 

'•'  I  could  not  but  think  of  the  amusement  I  should  have 
afforded  you,  could  you  have  taken  a  peep  at  me.  I  had 
spent  Sunday  morning  at  Grassmere,  —  one  ofcthe  sweetest 
and  most  peace-breathing  spots  under  the  skies,  —  and  in 
the  afternoon,  being  unable  to  attend  church,  I  resolved  to 
visit  Mr.  Wordsworth,  who  resides  two  miles  and  a  half 
from  the  inn.  Unluckily,  Grassmere,  whilst  it  supplied  the 
wants  of  the  imagination  and  heart  most  abundantly,  could 
not  supply  me  with  any  vehicle  for  the  body  more  easy  or 
dignified  than  a  cart,  dragged  by  a  horse  'who  had  caught 
nothing  of  the  grace  of  the  surrounding  scene. 

"  After  an  interview  of  great  pleasure  and  interest,  I  set 
out  to  return,  and,  unwilling  to  lose  Mr.  Wordsworth's  soci- 
ety, I  accepted  his  proposition  that  we  should  walk  together 
until  I  was  fatigued.  At  the  end  of  half  a  mile  my  strength 
began  to  fail,  and  finding  my  companion  still  earnest  in  con- 
versation, I  invited  him  to  take  a  seat  with  me,  which  he 
did ;  and  in  this  state  we  reentered  the  delightful  valley. 
Happily  the  air  was  mild,  and  I  began  to  think  that  Provi- 
dence, in  distributing  lots,  had  not  been  so  severe  as  one 
might  at  first  be  inclined  to  feel,  in  limiting  multitudes  to 
such  a  mode  of  conveyance  ;  for  I  enjoyed  the  fine  pros- 
pects of  Rydal  and  Grassmere  as  I  could  not  have  done  in  a 
covered  carriage. 

"You,  perhaps,  might  have  promised  me  the  honor  of 
being  introduced  with  the  cart  and  horse  into  a  '  lyrical 
ballad.'  But  to  me,  who,  as  you  know,  profess  to  be  greatly 
in  debt  to  Mr.  Wordsworth's  genius,  and  whose  respect  and 
affection  were  heightened  by  personal  intercourse,  there 
seemed  a  peculiar  felicity  in  riding  through  this  scene  of 
surpassing  tenderness,  with  a  man  of  genius  and  sensibility, 
who  had  caught  inspiration  from  the  lakes  and  mountains  in 
whose  beauty  I  too  had  been  rejoicing. 

••'  Mr.  Wordsworth's  conversation  was  free,  various,  ani- 
mated.    We  talked    so  eagerly  as  often  to  intpi''''"^^^   ^"f* 

v  0  L .    1 1 .  19 


218  EUROl'EAr^    JOURiXEY. 

another.  And  as  I  descended  into  Grassmere  near  sunset, 
with  the  placid  lake  before  me,  and  Wordsworth  talking  and 
reciting  poetry  with  a  poet's  spirit  by  my  side,  I  felt  that  the 
combination  of  circumstances  was  such  as  my  highest  hopes 
could  never  have  anticipated." 

Twenty  years  after  this  sunset  ride,  an  American 
traveller  was  visiting  Wordsworth,  when  the  poet  inci- 
dentally mentioned  this  interview,  and  said  that  one  re- 
mark then  made  by  Dr.  Channing  had  remained  fixed 
in  his  memory,  and  all  the  more  deeply  from  the  impres- 
sive tone  of  sincere  feeling  with  which  it  was  uttered. 
It  was  to  this  effect,  —  "  that  one  great  evidence  of  the 
Divine  origin  of  Christianity  was,  that  it  contained  noth- 
mg  which  rendered  it  unadapted  to  a  progressive  stale 
of  society,  that  it  put  no  checks  upon  the  activity  of  the 
human  mind,  and  did  not  compel  it  to  tread  always 
bhndly  in  a  beaten  path." 

From  Wordsworth  our  thoughts  are  led  by  an  asso- 
ciation, which  time  and  change  can  never  break^  to  his 
great  compeer,  Coleridge,  whom  Mr.  Channing  saw 
while  in  London  during  the  following  summer.  And 
as  there  is  nothing  in  the  few  notes  of  his  rapid  journey 
through  England  of  especial  interest,  we  will  pass  at 
once  to  a  brief  notice  of  this  visit.  Most  fortunately,  we 
are  enabled  to  enrich  our  pages  with  Coleridge's  own 
record  of  it,  as  given  in  the  following  letter  to  Washing- 
ton Allston. 

*^  High  gate,  13M  June,  1823. 

"  My  FRIEND  :  —  It  was  more  than  a  gratification,  it  was 
a  great  comfort,  to  all  of  us,  to  see,  sit,  walk,  and  converse 
with  two  such  dear  and  dearly  respected  friends  of  yours, 
as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Channing. 

"  Mr.  Channing  I  could  not  be  said  not  to  have  known  iu 


COLEKIDGE.  219 

pavt  before.  It  is  enough  to  add,  that  tlic  reality  diHercd 
from  my  previous  conception  of  it  only  by  being  more  ami- 
able, more  discriminating,  and  more  free  ffDm  prejudices, 
tlian  my  experience  had  permitted  me  to  anticipate.  His 
affection  for  the  good  as  the  good,  and  his  earnestness  for 
the  true  as  the  true,  —  with  that  harmonious  subordination 
of  tlie  latter  to  the  former,  without  encroachment  on  the 
absolute  worth  of  either, —  present  in  him  a  character  which 
in  my  heart's  heart  I  beUeve  to  be  the  very  rarest  in  earth. 
If  you  will  excuse  a  play  on  words  in  speaking  of  such  a 
man,  I  will  say  that  Mr.  Channing  is  a  philosopher  in  both 
the  possible  renderings  of  the  word.  He  has  the  love  of 
wisdom  and  the  wisdom  of  love. 

"  I  was  unfortunately  absent  the  first  evening.  Had  they 
been  prevented  from  repeating  their  visit,  I  should  have 
been  vexed  indeed,  and  yet  not  as  much  vexed  as  I  now 
know  I  should  have  had  reason  to  be.  I  feel  convinced  that 
the  few  differences  in  opinion  between  Mr.  Channing  and 
myself  not  only  are,  but  would  by  him  be  found,  to  be  appar- 
ent, not  real, —  the  same  truth  seen  in  different  relations. 
Perliaps  I  have  been  more  absorbed  in  the  depth  of  the  mys- 
tery of  the  spiritual  life,  he  more  engrossed  by  the  loveliness 
of  its  manifestations." 

Mr.  Channing  had  long  been  an  admiring  reader  of 
what  Coleridge  had  printed,  and  no  words  are  needed 
to  describe  the  pleasure  with  which,  in  common  with  all 
auditors,  he  listened  to  the  fascinating  monologue  of  the 
poet-philosopher,  who  had  then  entered  upon  certainly 
the  most  serene,  and  probably  the  most  brilliant,  period 
of  his  life.  It  seems,  however,  from  the  foregoing  letter, 
that  he  conversed  enough  to  leave  a  distinct  image  of 
himself.  Out  of  this  interview  arose,  at  a  later  time,  a 
foolish  report,  to  which  he  once  saw  fit  thus  to  refer. 


220  EUROPEAN    JOURNEY. 

The   whole   matter   is,    indeed,    quite    unimportant,   yet 
6ome  may  feel  an  interest  to  know  the  facts. 

"  I  find  that  certain  newspapers  have  lately  circulated  a 
letter  from  England,  in  which  the  writer  gives  some  details 
of  an  interview  with  Mr.  Coleridge,  and  which  contains  the 
following  passage  :  — 

"  '  I  was  not  a  little  surprised  at  his  [Mr.  Coleridge's] 
remarks  concerning  Dr.  Channing  of  Boston  ;  first,  that  Dr. 
Channing's  short  character  of  Bonaparte  had  its  birth-place 
and  received  its  shape  in  his  [Mr.  Coleridge's]  study.' 

"  I  may  as  well  say,  in  relation  to  the  statement  here  as- 
cribed to  Mr.  Coleridge,  that  I  can  explain  it  only  by  sup- 
posing the  writer  of  the  letter  to  have  misapprehended  that 
gendeman.  I  have  quite  a  distinct  recollection  of  my  only 
interview  with  Mr.  Coleridge,  and  cannot  remember  that 
Bonaparte  was  even  once  named.  I  am  confident  that  no 
remarks  on  his  character,  sufficiently  interesting  to  be 
brought  away,  were  made  to  me ;  for  in  that  case  some 
trace  of  them  must  have  remained  in  my  mind.  I  am  the 
more  confident  on  this  point,  because  my  recollections  are 
confirmed  by  a  friend  who  was  present." 

From  England  Mr.  Channing  went  to  Paris,  where 
he  passed  but  a  few  weeks,  and  then,  journeying  leisure- 
ly througli  France,  entered  Switzerland  by  the  Jura. 
He  was  too  unwell  to  avail  himself  freely  of  the  rich 
opportunities  for  enjoyment  so  amply  afforded  by  that 
most  picturesque  and  romantic  country  ;  but  a  (ew  ex- 
tracts from  his  letters  will  show  that  bodily  weakness 
could  not  deaden  his  spiritual  energy. 

Geneva,  Sept.  28,  1822.  "  I  find  that  I  hardly  knew  the 
power  of  mountain  scenery  until  I  came  hither,  although  I 
have  not  seen  the  noblest  of  the  Alps,  for  I  have  not  ye 
visited  Mont  Blanc,  but  only  caught  glimpses  of  his  snowy 


SWITZERLAND.  221 

top  at  a  distance,  half  wrapt  in  clouds.  You  probably  know 
that  the  mountains  of  Switzerland  are  not  distinguished  by 
beauty  of  form,  when  taken  separately.  Therstorms  have 
dealt  with  them  too  fiercely  and  too  long,  to  leave  them  the 
fine  outline  which  I  have  seen  in  our  own  country  and  in 
England.  Their  summits  generally  are  rugged,  naked, 
shattered  crags ;  and  you  sometimes  see  the  perpendicular, 
sharp  rocks  towering  into  the  skies  above  the  everlasting 
snows,  which  rest  on  the  projecting  surfaces  beneath.  It  is 
not  their  harmonious  proportion,  then,  but  the  air  of  awful 
power  impressed  upon  them,  —  the  perilous  precipices  by 
which  they  are  bounded,  the  boldness  with  which  they  send 
up  to  heaven  their  wild  tops,  the  prodigality  and  confusion 
with  which  they  are  scattered  around,  and  the  immense 
glaciers  shining  without  apparent  change  or  dissolution  un- 
der the  summer's  snow,  —  which  subdue  the  traveller  creep- 
ing at  their  foot.  These  constitute  the  deep,  solemn,  mys- 
terious charm  that  attracts  the  eye  to  gaze  upon  these  giant 
forms 

"  Do  you  not  envy  me  the  beautiful,  magnificent  scenery 
which  is  now  stretching  around  me  ?  I  shall  never  forget 
the  day  I  spent  at  Berne.  It  was  Sunday,  and  in  the  after 
noon,  under  a  most  brilliant  sky,  I  walked  on  the  ramparts, 
and  hailed  with  joy,  as  old  friends,  the  mountains  in  the 
horizon  which  I  had  visited  a  few  days  before.  All  that 
nature  can  do  to  lift  us  above  the  sordid  and  selfish  is  done 
in  Switzerland  ;  and  who  can  doubt  that  where  there  is  a 
deep  purpose  in  the  soul  to  elevate  itself,  much  aid  may  be 
derived  from  the  sublimity  of  the  external  world  ?  But 
without  this  purpose  and  inward  effort,  it  can  do  little  for 
us.  Switzerland  has  benefited  my  health  more  than  any 
other  country.  The  air  has  been  exhilarating,  and  I  have 
looked  on  the  mountains  with  a  delight  which  almost  gave 
me  strength  to  climb  them 

"  It  is  worth  no  little  suffering  to  cross  the  Wingern  Alp, 
19* 


222  EUKOPEAN    JOURNEY. 

and  scale  the  Grimsel.  I  had  strength  for  neither.  With 
what  desire  did  I  look  to  the  Jungfrau  !  If  I  revisit  Switzer- 
land, one  of  my  great  pleasures  will  be  to  approach  its  base. 
This  country  has  inspired  me.  I  grew  better  almost  as 
soon  as  I  entered  it." 

The  winter  months  were  passed  by  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Channing  at  Florence,  Rome,  and  Naples.  But  as  his 
letters  and  journals  —  written  in  haste,  debility,  and, 
as  we  shall  presently  see,  in  affliction  —  contain  no  de 
scriptions  of  scenery  or  places  which  are  particularly 
note-worthy,  we  will  proceed  at  once  to  extract  from 
his  papers  some  general  reflections  upon  society,  which 
he  seems  to  have  preserved  as  hints  for  future  thought. 
It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  suggest,  that,  to  one  of  his 
humane  spirit,  men  and  manners,  the  condition  of  the 
masses  of  the  people,  the  tendency  of  governments,  the 
influence  of  institutions,  presented  objects  of  interest  far 
surpassing  all  that  beauty  in  nature  and  art  could  offer. 

"  Has  not  every  state  of  society  a  spirit,  a  unity  ?  Do 
not  its  parts  cohere  .''  Can  we  judge  of  one  habit,  one  trait 
of  manners,  one  institution  alone  ?  Must  not  the  system  be 
understood,  the  central  principles,  the  great  ends  to  which 
the  community  is  working  ?  Are  not  a  nation's  whole  tone 
of  manners  and  cast  of  institutions  the  workings  and  mani- 
festations of  some  law  of  life,  combining  the  whole  ?  Must 
there  not  be  a  secret  accordance  between  the  different  parts 
of  a  nation's  character  and  modes  of  living  ?  Is  there  aa 
much  of  an  arbitrary  character  in  these  as  we  are  apt  to 
imagine.^  Is  not  the  interior  life  the  groat  thing  to  be  in- 
spected, the  form  of  human  nature  which  is  presented  in 
the  given  case  ? 

"  The  art  of  travelling  is,  to  unite  minute  observation 
with   large  comparison,  with   penetrating   insight   into  the 


REFLECnONS    ON    SOCIETY.  '223 

spirit  of  which  visible  modes  of  life  are  the  body.  The 
traveller  should  have  the  power  of  recognizing  the  common 
bond,  principle,  spring,  aim,  of  the  infinitely  multifarious 
agencies  composing  what  we  call  a  Nation 

"  We  must  not  depend  on  a  people  to  show  us  what  is 
most  worthy  of  our  attention  ;  for  they  are  actually  uncon- 
scious of  what  is  most  important,  their  oion  spirit.,  and  the 
influences  by  and  from  which  it  has  been  formed  and  is  kept 
alive 

"  A  great  object  in  travelling  is  to  discover  by  compari- 
son what  is  primary  and  universal  in  our  nature,  to  sep- 
arate the  adventitious,  secondary,  temporary,  to  learn  the 
deep  principles  on  which  all  permanent  improvements  are 
to  rest,  to  behold  and  to  love  what  is  human.,  to  shake  off 
our  prejudices  in  favor  of  the  unessential  modifications  of 
our  nature,  and  to  recognize  the  essential  through  these 
modifications 

"  To  go  abroad  that  we  may  see  the  unessential,  —  new 
modes  of  dressing,  eating,  bowing,  the  exterior  of  man  and 
life,  —  is  a  mere  wasting  of  time.  We  should  go  to  enlarge 
our  views  of  human  nature,  to  learn  what  it  can  do  and 
suffer,  to  what  it  is  equal,  under  what  influences  its  powers 
are  most  developed,  by  what  most  crushed.  The  noblest 
use  of  travelling  is,  to  discern  more  of  the  godlike  in  the  hu- 
man ;  and  are  there  not  marks,  in  the  most  degraded  con- 
dition of  society,  of  man's  true  glory  .-*  We  may  see  at  least 
some  evil  influences  withstood,  resisted,  which  shows  an  in- 
ward power  not  subdued,  nor  capable  of  subjection,  by  tho 
most  adverse  circumstances.  This  power  of  seeing  vital 
good  is  the  true  eye  for  a  traveller.  To  visit  distant  coun- 
tries only  to  collect  mementos  of  the  deformities  of  human 
nature,  to  fill  our  memory  with  images  of  the  misshapen 
exterior  under  which  humanity  lies  almost  hidden,  is  worse 
than  useless.  We  should  strive  to  perceive,  beneath  the  dis- 
tortions of  our  nature,  its  real  shape,  its  primitive  tendencies 


234  EUROrF.AX    JOL'KNEY. 

towards  good.  He  who  travels  without  learning  to  love  his 
race  move  would  do  far  better  to  stay  at  home.  It  is  a 
poor  business  to  rake  into  the  corruptions  of  human  nature, 
unless  o'-ie  believes  in  its  capacity  for  restoration,  and  ap- 
proaches its  defilements  only  to  cleanse  them.  A  good 
man  should  turn  from  irremediable  evils.  To  love  is  our 
work 

"  The  intellectual  education  of  the  poor  is  talked  of. 
Can  the  poor,  as  they  are  now  situated,  be  taught  much  ? 
What  'deas  does  the  poor  child  get  in  a  common  school  ? 
The  true  school  of  human  nature  is  the  sphere  opened  to 
its  faculties  and  affections  in  our  conditions  in  daily  life.  A 
state  of  society  furnishing  to  all  its  members  a  field  of 
action  for  the  mind  and  heart  gives  the  only  true  educa- 
tion ;  and  is  this  to  be  looked  for  anywhere  in  outward 
institutions  ?  Is  it  not  to  be  found  chiefly  in  the  spirit  of 
Christianity  spread  through  a  community,  leading  its  mem- 
bers to  a  love  and  reverence  of  human  nature,  and  to  a 
regard  to  human  excellence,  in  their  arrangements  for  prop- 
erty, &c. .''  A  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  for  common  good  must 
be  made  powerful  in  the  most  intelligent  and  influential. 
To  improve  men  must  be  a  chief  consideration  in  employ- 
ing them,  and  the  good  of  the  laborer  must  be  regarded  as 
well  as  the  profit  to  be  drawn  from  iiis  toil.  So  long  as 
this  is  thought  romantic,  society  can  have  no  bright  prospect 
of  permanent  progress 

"  We  are  educating  the  poor  that  they  may  get  a  living, 
forgetting  that  they  have  a  nature  like  our  own,  which  can- 
not be  confined  to  this  end,  and  which,  unless  raised  to 
high  and  generous  ends,  will  work  their  own  and  others' 
misery 

"The  idea,  that  respectability  and  a  certain  rank  cohere 
and  are  inseparable,  is  ruinous  now.  The  true  dignity  of 
human  nature  is  to  be  learned,  and  the  consistency  of  this 
with  very  moderate  circumstances 


REFLECTIONS    ON    SOCIETY.  225 

"  Civil  society  abounds  in  restraints  on  our  nature,  where 
levelopment  should  be  the  great  aim  How  little  is  now 
done  to  remove  barriers  to  human  powers  and  affections  !  The 
order  of  society  has  been  thought  to  demand  subordination, 
subjection,  force,  artificial  manners,  badges  of  different 
r.astes, —  all  cramping  the  soul 

"  Fashion  is  a  chain  on  the  soul.  It  is  a  yoke  laid  by  su- 
periors on  inferiors,  through  opinion.  It  disposes  of  our 
time,  attention,  powers.  It  puts  the  stamp  of  worth,  dignity, 
happiness,  on  actions  and  conditions,  and  prevents  us  from 
judging  for  ourselves.  Originating  with  those  who  are  raised 
above  natural  wants,  and  in  whom  the  spirit  of  self-sacrifice 
is  lost  in  self-indulgence,  it  gives  currency  to  factitious, 
selfish  pursuits  and  enjoyments.  Thus  the  mind  is  perverted, 
contracted,  filled  with  false  views,  and  grows  mechanical, 
torpid,  lifeless.  A  society  is  improved  in  proportion  as  indi- 
viduals  judge  for  themselves,  and  from  their  own  experience 
and  feeling,  and  not  according  to  general  opinion.  A  man 
should  look  to  his  own  soul  to  learn  what  makes  him  happi- 
est, and  to  decide  when  he  is  conscious  of  acting  most  in 
harmony  with  his  whole  nature.     But  how  few  do  so ! 

"  Genius  is  a  liberating  power.  It  accords  with  nature, 
detects  natural  feeling  in  the  artificial  arrangements  of  soci- 
ety, and  discerns  and  enjoys  the  beautiful  and  lovely  in  our 
natural  affections  and  moral  sentiments.  Thus  a  literature 
of  genius  withstands  corruption,  brings  back  higher  minds  to 
nature,  counteracts  fashion 

"  A  society  is  advanced  in  proportion  as  human  nature  is 
respected.  It  is  the  misery  of  the  present  state,  that  man,  as 
nan.)  is  counted  of  so  little  worth.  It  is  man  clothed  in  [)ur- 
ple,  dressed  in  a  little  brief  authority,  high-born,  rich,  &c., 
who  is  now  considered  as  deserving  power.  A  just  estimate 
of  human  nature,  of  its  purposes,  powers,  destiny,  leading  to 
general  courtesy,  respect,  and  effort  for  the  advancement  of 
this  nature,  in  each  and  all, —  this  is  the  measure  of  the  pro- 


T4b  EURorEAN    JOURNEY, 

gress  of  society.  When  manners,  and  especially  the  inter' 
course  between  different  classes,  express  this,  society  is  truly 
flourishing 

"  The  existence  of  a  large  class,  cut  off  from  the  rest  of 
the  community,  trained  up  to  ignorance  and  vice,  gross  in 
manners,  in  no  degree  acted  upon  by  other  classes,  and  re- 
pressed only  by  brute  force,  is  a  sad  feature  of  civilized  so- 
ciety, and  a  reproach  on  more  favored  orders.  The  true 
organization  of  society  is  that  in  which  all  improvements  of 
the  higher  are  communicated  to  the  lower  classes,  and  in 
which  intellect  and  virtue  descend  and  are  diffused.  And 
will  any  thing  but  Christianity,  moulding  anew  the  whole 
spirit  of  the  higher  classes,  bring  about  this  end  ? 

"The  influence  of  government  is  of  great  importance  in 
judging  of  the  state  of  society.  A  good  government  is  that 
which,  by  manifesting  a  common,  wide,  universal  care,  dif- 
fuses a  generous,  impartial,  disinterested  spirit.  A  society  is 
well  organized,  whose  government  recognizes  the  claims  and 
rights  of  all,  has  no  favorites,  respects  humanity  in  all  its 
forms,  and  aims  to  direct  the  pursuits  of  each  to  the  general 
good.  Such  a  government  implies  the  existence  of  a  disin- 
terested spirit  in  the  community,  and  greatly  strengthens  it. 
This  reaction  is  the  most  interesting  view  in  public  affairs. 
A  society  makes  progress,  just  as  far  as  a  disinterested  spirit, 
mfluencing  the  members,  is  embodied  and  manifested  in  in- 
stitutions, laws,  tribunals,  and  through  these  flows  back  with 
new  energy  to  individuals.  This  is  the  highest  end  of  gov- 
ernment, its  sublime,  moral  end 

"  Liberty  is  the  great  social  good,  —  exemption  from  un- 
just restraints,  —  freedom  to  act,  to  exert  powers  of  useful- 
ness. Docs  a  government  advance  this  simply  by  establish- 
ing equal  laws  ?  The  very  protection  of  property  may  crush 
a  large  mass  of  the  community,  may  give  the  rich  a  monop- 
oly in  land,  may  take  from  the  poor  all  means  of  action. 
Liberty  is  a  blessing  only  by  setting  man's  powers  at  large, 


REFLECTIONS    ON    SOCIETY.  227 

exciting,  quickening  them.  A  poor  man,  in  the  present 
state  of  society,  may  be  a  slave,  by  his  entire  dependence. 
Is  it  not  the  true  end  of  government,  to  aim  at  securing  for 
all  the  widest  field  of  useful  action  ?  This  is  to  establish 
liberty.  How  far  more  important  is  this  than  to  protect  any 
single  class  1 

"  The  poor,  weak,  helpless,  suffering,  are  the  first  objects 
for  the  care  of  government.  Society  improves  in  propor- 
tion as  they  are  protected  in  the  exercise  of  their  rights. 
These  high  views  of  government,  as  a  sacred  institution  for 
elevating  all  classes  of  men,  are  essential  to  an  exalted  com- 
munity.  Where  government  is  considered  as  a  prize  for 
selfish  ambition,  society  becomes  degraded 

"  The  best  condition  of  society  is  that  in  which  all  ranks, 
classes,  orders,  are  intimately  connected  and  associated. 
The  deformity  of  present  society  is  the  separation  of  ranks, 
the  immense  disparity,  the  inhuman  distance  of  different  or- 
ders. All  men  cannot  be  equal  in  all  respects  ;  but  the  high 
should  feel  their  elevation  to  be  a  motive  and  obligation  to 
labor  for  inferiors. 

"  There  must  be  a  body  of  enlightened,  studious  men.  Let 
not  these  form  a  party,  a  faction,  but  consider  their  light  as 
a  good  given  to  be  diffused,  and  as  a  means  to  maintain  an 
improving  intercourse  among  all  orders.  So  there  will  be 
rich  men;  but  the  rich,  instead  of  herding  together,  and 
linking  themselves  to  one  another  by  common  pleasures, 
privileges,  refinements,  ought  to  regard  property  as  a  trust 
for  the  good  of  those  who  are  in  want.  Let  there  be  no  lit- 
eiary  class,  no  class  of  rich.  The  learned,  when  forming 
a  distinct  class,  become  jealous,  exacting,  domineering,  and 
st,ek  to  maintain  their  sway,  even  at  the  expense  of  truth. 
Scholars  already  begin  to  find  the  benefit  of  quitting  their 
pedantic  cells  and  mingling  with  general  society  ;  but  still 
they  associa-te  too  much  with  rich  and  refined,  —  still  they 
seek  honor  and  power.     Their  high  office,  of  being  lights  to 


228  EUROPEAN    JOURNEY. 

society,  is  overlooked.  How  the  rich  injure  themselves  by  a 
clannish  spirit,  corrupting  one  another  by  rivalry  in  show  and 
expense  !  Christianity  breaks  down  all  these  walls  of  division 
between  man  and  man." 

But  the  scenery,  works  of  art,  institutions,  and  social 
tendencies  of  the  Old  World  could  not  wean  Mr.  Chan- 
ning's  affections  from  his  home  ;  and  the  following  es.- 
tracts  from  his  letters  manifest  the  tender  solicitude  vvirn 
which  he  sought,  while  far  away,  to  exert  a  good  influ 
♦jnce  over  his  children  :  — 

"  London,  Aug.  8,  1822.  In  the  first  place,  I  wish  my 
children  to  be  simple,  natural,  without  affectation.  Children 
are  often  injured  for  life  by  the  notice  taken  of  their  move- 
ments, tones,  sayings,  which  leads  them  to  repeat  what  draws 
attention,  and  to  act  from  love  of  observation,  instead  of  fol- 
lowing the  impulses  of  nature.  A  child  should  never  be 
tempted  to  put  on  pretty  airs,  or  to  think  of  itself  and  its 
looks.  I  have  wished  my  children  always  to  act  in  a  free, 
natural,  unstudied  way,  without  the  idea  or  desire  of  being 
observed,  and,  on  this  account,  have  been  very  willing  to 
keep  them  out  of  society,  where  they  might  have -been  taught, 
by  injudicious  notice,  to  turn  their  thoughts  upon  themselves 
and  to  assume  the  manners  which  they  would  have  seen  to 
attract  attention.  The  charm  of  infancy  is  its  perfect  art- 
lessness  and  the  immediate  communication  between  its  feel- 
ings and  actions.  I  would  prefer  that  my  children  should 
have  any  degree  of  awkwardness,  rather  than  form  an  arti- 
ficial style  of  conduct ;  for  the  first  evil  may  be  outgrown,  but 
affectation  is  seldom  or  never  cured. 

"  The  next  particular  to  be  mentioned  is  closely  connected 
with  this.  I  wish  my  children  to  be  honest,  sincere,  and  un- 
disguised, to  tell  the  truth,  at  all  perils  and  under  all  circum- 
stances.    I  have  always  kept  this  in  sight,  endeavouring,  in 


CARE    FOR    HIS    CHILDREN.  229 

my  w  lole  intercourse  with  them,  to  avoid  the  slightest  ap- 
pearance of  art  or  disguise.  Children  must  never  he  deceived. 
For  example,  in  order  to  induce  them  to  take  medicine,  they 
must  never  be  told  that  it  is  less  bitter  than  it  is  ;  nor,  to  keep 
them  from  crying,  should  things  which  they  want  be  slily 
concealed  from  them.  It  is  better  to  let  them  cry  than  to 
give  them  a  lesson  in  manoeuvring.  I  am  persuaded  that 
the  artifices  of  children,  which  we  charge  on  nature,  are  very 
often  imitations  of  the  cunning  practices  of  those  about  them. 
I  would  have  an  intercourse  of  entire  frankness  established 
with  children.  They  should  never  have  reason  to  suspect 
that  there  is  the  least  disagreement  between  our  feelings  and 
outward  signs.  If  we  are  unwilling  to  disclose  any  thing,  we 
should  say  so,  and  not  use  indirect  means  to  hide  it ;  and  we 
should  encourage  them  to  the  same  explicitness.  We  should 
never  invite  them  to  express  more  affection  than  they  really 
feel,  or  to  lavish  marks  of  fondness,  when  they  wish  to  em- 
ploy themselves  about  something  else.  It  is  better  that  they 
should  seem  cold  than  he  insincere.  Nor  should  they  be 
taught,  as  a  part  of  politeness,  to  use  lightly  the  language  of 
affection.  Whenever  they  give  their  opinion,  they  should  be 
encouraged  to  do  it  fully,  freely,  and  not  be  tempted  to  soften 
or  color  it  because  it  may  happen  t©  differ  from  our  own  or 
that  of  others.  They  should  talk  always  from  their  own 
minds,  and  not  from  other  people's.  This  transparency  in 
children  is  undoubtedly  sometimes  unpleasant.  Yet  when 
connected,  as  it  always  should  be,  with  the  culture  of  the 
kind  afTections,  it  gradually  ripens  into  an  ingenuous,  consid- 
erate frankness,  which  expresses  the  real  convictions  of  the 
mind,  without  inflicting  unnecessary  pain,  and  becomes  one 
of  the  chief  beauties  of  our  social  nature. 

"  Children  are  taught  insincerity  in  various  ways  ;  some- 
times by  example,  sometimes  by  close  questioning,  and  again 
by  severity,  by  capriciousness  in  their  superiors,  by  finding 

VOL.   ir.  20 


<!30  EUROPEAN    JOURNEY. 

that  their  honest  confessions  are  punished,  or,  at  least,  expose 
them  to  wearisome  advice,"  &;c. 

"  Florence,  Nov.  12,  1822.  I  told  you  how  earnestly  I 
desire  that  my  children  should  be  simple  and  unaffected  in 
character  and  manners,  and  sincere,  frank,  and  undisguised 
in  language  and  conduct.  I  would  now  add,  what  it  is  hard- 
ly necessary  to  say  to  you,  that  I  wish  my  children  to  be 
placed  under  circumstances  and  influences  most  favorable 
for  forming  that  kind,  affectionate,  benevolent,  disinterested 
character  which  our  religion  enjoins  so  continually  and  ear- 
nestly. Children  should  learn  to  love  before  they  can  un- 
derstand the  meaning  of  the  word.  They  are  put  into  our 
hands  dependent,  helpless,  ignorant,  —  for  this  very  end, 
that  they  may  call  forth  love  in  our  hearts,  and  that  our  love 
may  awaken  a  corresponding  sentiment  in  them.  To  nour- 
ish in  them  attachment  and  affectionate  feelings  should,  in 
fact,  be  a  leading  object  with  us  in  supplying  their  wants 
upholding  their  weakness,  and  relieving  their  pains. 

"  For  this  end,  it  is  of  great  importance  that  our  treat- 
ment of  children  should  be  marked  by  uniform  kindness,  un- 
broken by  inequalities  of  temper.  We  have  labored  that  our 
children  should  never  ?ee  in  us  the  looks,  or  hear  from  us 
the  sounds,  of  passion.  I  am  sure  that  the  bad  feelings  of 
infancy,  which  we  charge  upon  nature,  are  very  often  to  be 
traced  to  the  impatience,  and  want  of  self-government,  and 
abuse  of  power,  in  older  people  ;  and  I  have  a  strong 
conviction,  that  an  amiable,  generous  temper,  uniformly 
expressed  by  those  around  them,  will  prove  equally  conta- 
gious. 

"  There  is,  however,  a  danger  of  a  different  kind  to  be 
guarded  against.  It  is  possible,  by  injudicious  fondness,  to 
nourish  selfishness  instead  of  love  in  our  children.  They 
may  be  so  treated,  as  to  imagine  that  all  around  them  are  liv- 
ing chiefly  for  their  gratification,  and  to  expect  all  to  be  sub- 


CARE    FOR    HIS    CHILDREN.  231 

servient  to  them,  —  a  mode  of  treatment  perhaps  worse, 
even,  than  severity.  To  prevent  this,  they  must  see,  that, 
whilst  they  are  loved  tenderly,  they  are  not  loved  blindly 
and  without  judgment ;  and  they  must  see,  too,  that  others 
are  loved  as  well  as  themselves,  and  that  they  are  expected, 
as  they  have  ability,  to  serve  and  benefit  those  around  them. 
They  should  never  imagine  for  a  moment  that  their  own 
happiness  is  more  important  than  that  of  older  persons,  or 
their  rights,  interests,  and  feelings  more  sacred  ;  but  they 
should  early  learn  the  essential  equality  of  human  beings 
and  the  respect  due  to  human  nature  in  every  condition. 
They  must  not  acquire  an  idea  of  their  own  singular  impor- 
tance, by  seeing  that  all  arrangements  refer  to  them,  by  great 
attention  in  company,  or  by  being  allowed  to  command 
others  for  services  which  they  can  render  themselves  ;  nor 
must  self-will  and  an  imperious  temper  be  encouraged,  by 
granting  to  their  obstinate,  importunate,  loud  demands  what 
a  wise  affection  would  not  yield  to  their  first  requests.  Dis- 
interestedness, forgetfulness  of  self,  living  for  others,  —  this 
is  a  primary  end  in  education. 

"  Yet  too  much  is  not  to  be  expected  at  first.  Children 
at  first  are  selfish, —  if  so  hard  a  word  may  be  used,  —  by 
necessity,  and  innocently  ;  for  their  own  pleasures  and 
pains  are  the  only  ones  of  which  they  have  any  notion. 
They  very  slowly  learn  that  others  feel  as  keenly  as  them- 
selves. They  must  therefore  gradually  have  their  minds 
turned  to  others'  feelings,  and  be  taught  to  place  themselves 
in  others'  situations.  Their  own  sufferings,  instead  of  call- 
ing forth  in  their  attendants  an  excessive  tenderness,  which 
would  only  make  them  cowardly  and  effeminate,  should  be 
used  to  produce  sympathy  with  others  in  the  same  circum- 
stances. In  like  manner,  their  attention  should  be  gradually 
turned  to  disinterested  actions  and  generous  sentiments  in 
others,  which  they  are  capable  of  comprehending  ;  and  they 
should  always  hear  these  spoken  of  with  unaffected  delight. 


233  EUROPEAN    JOURNEY. 

Until,  by  such  methods,  a  spirit  of  self-sacrifice  is  in  some 
measure  excited,  children  should  not  be  urged  to  express  it 
in  action  ;  nor  should  profession  of  it  ever  be  required,  lest 
their  kindness  become  tainted  with  insincerity.  I  conclude, 
as  I  began,  with  saying  that  the  best  way  of  teaching  chil- 
dren love  is  by  example.  Let  them  see  that  it  is  common 
for  people  to  live  for  others  rather  than  themselves,  and 
then  they  will  not  think  that  disinterestedness  is  a  superhu- 
man effort. 

"  There  is  another  subject,  closely  connected  with  this,  on 
which  I  wish  to  add  a  few  lines  ;  I  mean  self-government. 
The  hardest  task  for  children,  as  for  ourselves,  is  to  govern 
the  appetites,  to  restrain  wishes,  to  give  up  what  is  pleas- 
ant ;  and  this  task  is  to  be  lightened  by  preserving  them,  as 
far  as  we  can,  from  immoderate  desires.  Self-restraint, 
which  is  hard  at  first,  becomes  impossible,  when  the  appe- 
tites are  inflamed  by  studied  indulgence,  by  a  thousand  deli- 
cacies and  stimulants,  &c.  Those  children  are  happiest,  and 
best  prepared  for  generous  efforts,  whose  natural,  simple 
wants  are  gratified  by  simple  means,  who  are  accustomed  to 
plain  food,  and  are  left  to  find  pleasure  in  the  exercise  of 
their  own  limbs  and  powers,  instead  of  having  their  wishes 
anticipated  and  multiplied  by  misplaced  kindness.  Children 
are  continually  corrupted  and  enslaved  to  their  appetites  by 
bad  example,  by  seeing  older  people  giving  great  importance 
to  pleasures  of  sense,  and  living  to  gratify  factitious  wants. 
In  this  way,  they  come  to  think  a  thousand  superfluities  es- 
sential ;  their  wants  become  insatiable,  and,  instead  of  living 
for  others,  they  are  perpetually  pursuing,  with  a  feverish,  ir- 
ritable eagerness,  unsubstantial  pleasures  for  themselves." 

Such  was  the  watchful  care  with  which  he  endeavoured 
to  surround  his  little  girl  and  boys  with  gentle  and  purify- 
ing influences.  But  one  of  them  was  never  to  learn  on 
earth  the  riches  of  a  parent's  love.      Almost  while  he  was 


DEATH    OF    ins    SON.  233 

ivi-iting  the  last  lines,  his  youngest  son  had  died.  He  re- 
ceived the  intelhgence  of  this  calamity  on  his  arrival  at 
Rome,  and  nothing  could  have  been  more  beautiful  than 
his  acquiescence  in  this  irreparable  loss.  The  same  let- 
ters which  conveyed  the  sad  tidings  announced  also  that 
a  beloved  sister-in-law  had  been  taken  away  ;  and,  in  his 
reply,  he  thus  touchingly  speaks  of  the  twofold  bereave- 
ment ■  — 

"  Rome,  Dec.  18,  1822,     I  reached  this  place  yesterday, 
and  found  here  the  paclcage  of  letters  containing  the  mel- 
ancholy accounts  of  W.'s  loss  and  of  my  own.     I  am  af- 
flicted indeed.     God  has  visited  me  with  the  heaviest  loss  I 
can  experience,  save  one.     My  sweet,  lovely  boy  !    Is  he 
indeed  gone  ?  and  am  I  no  more  to  see  that  smile  which  to 
me  and  to  his  mother  was  like  a  beam  from  heaven  ?     He 
was  a  most  gentle  creature.     I  can  remember  his  occasional 
cries  of  distress,  but  never  one  of  passion.     My  health  did 
not  allow  me  to  carry  and  play  with  him,  as  I  had  been  ir 
the  habit  of  doing  with   my  other  infants  ;  but  when  I  wa.-. 
amusing  myself  with  Mary  and  William,  he  would  creep  to 
me  and  climb  up  into  my  lap,  and  win  from  me,  by  his  be- 
nignant smile,  the  notice  which  I  was  giving  to  them.     The 
accounts  we  had  received  of  him  before  this  last  sad  news 
were  most  encouraging,  and  we  were  anticipating  the  happy 
moment  when  we  should  take  him  to  our  arms  and  press 
him  to  our  hearts  with  a  delight  he  had  never  given  us  be- 
fore.    And  he  is  gone  !  and  when  we  return,  if  that  blessing 
is  in  store  for  us,  we  shall  look  for  him  in  vain  !     O,  the  void 
in  a  parent's  heart,  when  a  child  is  taken,  you  do  not  know  ! 
and  may  you  never  know  it!     You  are  a  mother ;  and,  to  a 
mother,  the  pang  is  what  a  father  seldom  feels.     I  think  much 
more  of  my  wife  than  of  myself;  her  feelings  on  the  subject 

of  our  children  have  been  so  keen 

"  Do  not  think,  my  dear,  from  what  I  have  written,  that  I 
20* 


234  EUROPEAN    JOURNEY. 

am  in  danger  of  dejection.  I  suffer;  but  I  have  never  for- 
gotten that  my  child  belonged  to  another  and  better  parent, 
and  was  made  for  a  higher  state  than  this.  I  am  sure  that 
he  was  equally  the  care  of  God  in  death  as  in  life.  I  can 
not  believe  that  the  necessary  means  of  educating  an  immor- 
tal spirit  are  confined  to  this  world.  I  remember  that  com- 
forting scripture,  '  Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ' ;  and 
my  hope  is,  that  my  child  has  gone  to  live  under  a  more  in- 
timate connection  than  we  can  now  conceive  with  Him  who 
took  little  children  into  his  arms  and  blessed  them.  Nor  do 
I  believe  that  the  relation  of  parent  and  child  is  dissolved  by 
death.  In  the  whole  progress  of  our  future  being,  we  must 
always,  I  think,  look  back  with  peculiar  interest  on  the  mo- 
ment when  we  began  to  be,  and  must,  I  think,  distinguish 
with  some  peculiar  emotion  those  who,  under  Providence, 
brought  us  into  life,  and  who  welcomed  and  loved  and  cher- 
ished us  in  our  first  helplessness  with  intense  and  unwearied 
affection.     Death  is  not  that  wide  gulf  between  us  and  the 

departed    which    we    are    apt   to    imagine Francis, 

Ann,  my  child,  and  our  beloved  Barbara,  are  gone  from  us, 
but  are  not  lost  to  us. 

"  At  the  mention  of  Barbara's  name,  I  feel  as  if  I  had 
been  unjust  in  dwelling  so  long  on  my  more  immediate  afllic- 
tion.  I  know  no  greater  bereavement  than  W.'s.  I  would 
speak  of  my  own  loss  in  Barbara's  death,  but  that  his  so 
much  surpasses  it.  She  was  one  of  the  loveliest  of  women 
and  best  of  wives.  All  the  graces  and  virtues  were  joined 
in  her  so  harmoniously,  her  excellence  was  so  singularly  un- 
alloyed, so  far  from  the  mixtures  and  defects  which  we  have 
to  lament  in  most  of  our  friends,  that  I  dwell  on  her  with  a 
peculiar  complacency.  Seldom  does  a  gentler,  purer,  more 
benignant,  more  disinterested  spirit  take  its  flight  from  earth 
to  heaven.  Her  countenance,  conversation,  life,  sent  forth 
a  sweet  and  blessed  influence.  And  she  too  is  gone,  and  I 
am  to  see  this  lovely  and  beloved  sister  no  more  on  earth ! ' 


DEATH    OF    HIS    SON.  235 

And  again,  to  his  mother  he  thus  writes,  under  date 
of  January  2d,  1823  :  — 

"  Of  our  dear  boy  we  had  heard  nothing  but  good,  and 
his  loss  was  a  blow  as  unexpected  as  it  was  heavy.  He  was 
a  ti'easure  worth  more  to  us  than  the  world.  His  sweet, 
gentle  temper  not  only  made  him  a  present  blessing,  but 
encouraged  us  to  hope  that  he  would  need  only  the  mildest 
influences  to  sway  him  to  goodness,  and  that  he  would  make 
us  the  happiest  returns  of  love  for  our  parental  care,  lo 
part  with  this  lovely,  smiling,  innocent  boy,  to  whom  we 
hoped  to  do  so  much  good,  and  whose  attachment  and  prog- 
ress we  imagined  were  to  brighten  our  future  lives,  this  is 
indeed  to  be  bereaved 

" expressed  a  fear  that  I  should  suffer  in  health  by 

the  sad  news  from  home.  No  !  Even  had  I  not  the  sup- 
ports of  Christian  principle,  I  should  find  motives  enough  in 
my  situation  and  affections  for  watching  over  my  health.  I 
feel  my  distance  from  home  more  deeply  than  ever,  and 
have  hardly  a  thought  or  a  wish,  as  regards  this  world,  but 
of  returning  to  it ;  and  knowing,  as  I  do,  that  this  depends 
on  recovering  my  strength,  I  am  almost  too  solicitous  in 

using  the  means  to  this  end It  is  true  that  all  the 

symptoms  of  my  old  maladies  have  not  disappeared,  nor 
will  they,  I  apprehend,  for  a  long  time,  if  ever.  But  I  trust 
that  a  life  of  moderate  effort  in  my  profession,  together  with 
regular  exercise,  will  not  only  preserve,  but  gradually  aug- 
ment, my  strength  ;  and  this  hope  gives  me  a  cheerfulness 
and  gratitude  very  necessary  in  my  present  circumstan- 
ces  

"  You  and  my  mother  Gibbs  have  suffered  much  by  our 
late  domestic  trials.  Our  absence  seems  to  us  a  great  evil, 
by  depriving  us  of  the  opportunities  of  rendering  those 
offices  of  filial  love  of  which  we  never  knew  the  full  value 
until  we  were  parents  ourselves.     It  is  our  constant  prayer 


236  EUROPEAN    JOURNEY, 

that  God  would  preserve  you  both,  and  would  increase  our 
power  of  contributing  to  your  happiness.  Absence  has  en- 
deared all  our  friends  to  us,  but  none  more  than  our  parents. 
I  sometimes  wonder,  now,  that  we  were  capable  of  tearing 
ourselves  from  you  all.  In  a  world  so  transient  and  uncer- 
tain, a  year  seems  too  much  time  to  be  spent  at  a  distance 
from  one's  home.  Do  give  the  assurances  of  my  love  to 
all  our  dear  circle.  I  cannot  begin  to  name  the  friends  to 
■whom  I  wish  to  send  affectionate  remembrance.  I  am  too 
rich  in  these  blessings  to  be  able  to  count  them,  and  distance 
only  makes  them  more  precious. 

"  Your  affectionate  son." 

And,  finally,  in  his  journnls,  he  thus  communes  with 
his  own  spirit  and  with  God  :  — 

"  Rome,  Jan.  1823.  How  unavailing  is  foresight  in  the 
most  important  transactions  of  life  !  We  would  lengthen 
life  for  our  children,  and  they  are  taken  before  us.  We  lay 
deep  plans  of  future  usefulness,  and,  whilst  gathering  the 
means,  we  lose  the  beings  on  and  for  whom  we  would  ex- 
pend them.  We  waste  the  present  for  a  future  which  never 
comes.  We  go  to  foreign  countries  for  health,  and  there 
perhaps  lay  our  bones,  or  hear  of  the  death  of  those  with 
whom  we  were  to  enjoy  the  health  we  seek.  Let  us  not  be 
too  wise  and  provident,  but  use  the  means  of  happiness  and 
usefulness  God  gives,  instead  of  throwing  them  away  in  the 
pursuit  of  more.  Exile  from  home,  from  the  sphere  of  ac- 
tion marked  out  for  us  by  God,  is  one  of  the  greatest  evils 
of  life,  and  should  not  be  encountered  lightly. 

"  In  the  moment  of  afHiction  the  thought  sometimes  comes 
to  us  with  an  almost  overwhelming  vividness  of  our  entire 
dependence.  The  hour  which  has  taken  one  blessing  can 
take  more.  All  our  possessions  begin  to  tremble,  when  one 
very  dear  is  taken.  The  loss  of  one  child  makes  prominent 
the  frailty  of  all.     The  bloom  of  health  fades  as  we  look 


DEATH    OF    HIS    SON. 


237 


upon  it.  0,  how  desolate  we  may  be  made  in  a  moment ! 
and  how  wretched  would  be  our  condition,  if  the  Power 
which  disposes  of  us  were  not  benevolent !  *" 

"  When  I  think  of  my  child,  of  its  beauty  and  sweetness, 
of  the  tenderness  he  awakened,  of  the  spirit  which  God  had 
breathed  intp  him,  and  which  had  begun  to  develop  itself, 
I  cannot  doubt  that  he  was  the  care  of  God  in  death,  as  in 
life.  He  was  made  for  God  ;  had  he  lived,  my  chief  duty 
would  have  been  to  direct  him  to  that  Infinite  Good,  —  and 
has  he  not  now  gone  to  Him  from  whom  he  came  ?  Is  it 
not  a  most  interesting  view  of  death,  that  it  removes  in  a 
great  degree  the  intermediate  provisions,  the  external  means 
by  which  God  communicates  benefits,  and  thus  places  us  ii. 
a  more  immediate  and  visible  connection  with  him  ?  Is  It 
not  the  happiness  of  heaven,  that  spirits  see  God  not  only 
as  reflected  in  his  works,  but  face  to  face  ?  God  used  our 
arms  to  sustain  our  child  ;  has  he  not  taken  him  to  a  world 
where  he  will  lean  more  immediately  on  his  own  7 

"  When  I  consider  how  interesting  a  moment  the  begin- 
ning of  existence  is  to  a  reasonable  being,  how  infinite  the 
abyss  between  non-existence  and  existence,  I  feel  that  we 
must  always  look  back  to  the  moment  and  circumstances  of 
our  birth  with  peculiar  emotions,  and  that  the  beings  to 
whom,  under  God,  we  owed  our  life,  who  were  the  instru- 
ments of  Providence  in  giving  us  bodily  existence  and 
watching  over  the  feeble  spark,  who  were  the  first  to  wel- 
come and  to  love  us,  must  always  seem  to  be  among  our 
chief  benefactors.  Will  not  the  parental  relation  thus  be  a 
bond  of  union,  a  source  of  happiness,  for  ever  }  The  found 
ling  sighs  to  know  his  parents  with  eager  and  burning  de- 
sire. Is  not  this  filial  afiection  an  instinct  of  the  rational 
and  moral  nature  which  will  act  through  all  the  future  ? 

"  Our  child  is  lost  to  our  sight,  but  not  to  our  faith  and 
liope, —  perhaps  not  to  our  beneficent  influence.  Is  there 
no  means  of  gratifying  our  desire  of  promoting  his  hap- 


238  EUROPEAN    JOURNEr. 

piness  ?  The  living  and  dead  make  one  communion.  '  Why 
born  only  to  die  ?  '  Birth  establishes  a  connection  with  the 
human  race.  His  birth  made  our  boy  one  of  a  great  spir- 
itual family,  and  intimately  united  him  with  a  few.  Will 
■"ot  his  eternal  being  be  influenced  by  this  connection  } 

'••  We  were  not  permitted  to  render  the  last  kindnesses  ! 
There  is,  too,  a  pleasure,  if  it  may  be  so  called,  in  seeing 
'he  gradual  decay  and  extinction  of  life  ;  for  we  seem  more 
easily  to  follow  the  spirit  into  another  state,  by  thus  bearing 
It  company  to  the  verge  of  this.  There  is  not  that  sense  of 
darkness  in  the  gradual  fading  of  the  light  as  in  its  imme- 
diate extinction." 

"  Is  it  true,  that  the  suggestions  of  affliction,  the  views 
which  seem  to  open  on  the  distressed  spirit,  are  fallacious, 
the  offspring  of  a  diseased  mind  ?  When  is  the  mind  most 
diseased  }  In  the  intoxication  of  prosperity,  or  the  solemn 
hour  of  adversity  ?  When  does  the  soul  enter  most  deeply 
into  itself? — when  understand  its  true  end  and  happiness? 
—  when  send  forth  the  purest,  highest  desires  ?  The  false 
splendors  of  this  world  hide  the  glories  of  a  better.  The 
light  from  above  is  seen  first,  perhaps,  when  that  below 
grows  dim 

"  The  loss  of  a  child  is,  indeed,  one  of  the  greatest  which 
a  mortal  can  experience,  —  the  loss  of  an  object  of  such 
tender  love,  of  a  being  possessing  the  noblest  powers  which 
we  had  hoped  to  see  unfolding  beneath  our  care,  to  whom 
we  had  longed  to  do  more  good  than  to  any  other  being, 
and  from  whom  we  had  anticipated  receiving  the  most  con- 
soling and  rejoicing  returns  of  love.  Surely  the  affections 
excited  by  the  parental  relation  bear  a  resemblance  to  those 
by  which  God  is  united  to  his  creatures." 

How  much  the  vivid  sense  of  his  own  loss,  anJ  the 
depth  of  love  thus  opened  in  his  heart  towards  hi'  chil- 
dren, added  warmth  to  the  reverent  gratitude  b'    vhich 


BIRTHDAY    THOUGHTS.  239 

he  was  bound  to  his  mother,  appears  by  the  following 
letter. 

"  Florence,  April  7,  1823.  When  you  look  at  the  date 
of  my  letter,  you  will  see  that  I  am  writing  you  on  my 
birthday ;  and,  on  this  day,  to  whom  could  I  write  with  so 
much  reason  as  to  you  >  —  for  to  you,  as  well  as  to  me,  it 
is  a  memorable  period.  When  I  think  of  the  beginning  of 
my  existence,  how  natural  is  it  that  my  thoughts  should  turn 
to  one  whose  kindness  towards  me  then  commenced,  and 
who  has  given  me  through  my  whole  life  proofs  of  increas- 
ing love  !  I  can  hardly  suppress  my  tears,  as  I  feel  the  ten- 
der relation  which  my  birth  established  between  us;  and  now 
that  I  am  so  far  from  you,  while  I  remember  your  declining 
years,  it  is  consoling  to  me  to  reflect,  that,  amidst  many 
deficiencies,  I  have  not  proved  wholly  insensible  to  the 
claims  of  your  affection, 

"  On  this  day,  I  feel  that  I  have  cause  to  give  God  thanks 
for  the  blessing  of  existence.  My  life,  though  no  exception 
to  the  common  lot,  though  checkered  with  good  and  evil, 
has,  on  the  whole,  been  singularly  favored.  Without  any 
care  or  forethought  of  my  own,  my  outward  condition  has 
been  almost  too  favorable,  and  the  comforts  of  life  have 
been  multiplied  upon  me,  not  only  beyond  my  hopes,  but 
beyond  my  wishes.  As  to  those  best  blessings  of  this  world, 
friends  worthy  of  love,  I  know  not  who  has  been  richer 
than  I ;  and  as  to  the  chief  crowning  good,  not  only  of  this, 
but  of  the  life  to  come,  I  mean  religion,  I  seem  to  myself 
to  have  been  placed  in  circumstances  highly  favorable,  at 
least,  to  the  understanding  of  the  Christian  faith  in  its  great- 
est purity.     How  far  I  have  practised  it,  with  what  f(<;lings 

I  review  my  conduct,  and  the  progress  of  my  character, 

these  are  topics  on  which  silence  is  wisdom.  To  another 
Being  I  have  to  render  my  account ;  and  our  poor,  weak, 
sinful  nature  can  hardly  look  back  on  a  life  as  long  as  my 


240  EUROPJiAN    JOURNEY. 

own  without  emotions  which  can  be  fitly  uttered  to  Hin 
alone." 

The  wanderer's  face  was  now  turned  again  to  liis 
native  land.  He  had  faithfully  sought  renewed  health 
by  rest  and  travel  amidst  interesting  scenes  ;  he  had 
enjoyed  and  learned  as  much  of  good  as,  in  his  bodily 
and  mental  condition,  he  was  capable  of  receiving  ;  and 
now  he  was  free  to  return  ;  and  he  thus  alludes  to  the 
deep  satisfaction  with  which  he  looked  forward  to  a  re- 
union with  his  friends  :  — 

"  Need  I  say  with  what  pleasure  I  write  to  you  from  this 
place  ?  Florence  is  on  my  way  hoine,  and  though  I  am 
still  very,  very  far  from  you,  the  thought  of  making  some 

progi'ess  towards  you  is  an  inexpressible  consolation 

Return  seems  almost  too  great  a  happiness  to  be  antici- 
Dated 

"  I  have  said  nothing  of  the  feelings  with  which  I  turn 
towards  home.  My  heart  swells  within  me,  as  I  approach 
this  subject.  And  why  should  I  speak  of  it  ?  Need  I  say 
where  my  affections  cling  ?  — how  my  heart  yearns  for  the 
native  land  I  have  left  ?  —  how  you  are  remembered  in  my 
prayers  by  night  and  by  day  ?  O,  no !  My  dear  mother, 
once  more,  farewell !  May  your  life  and  health  be  spared  ! 
May  we  meet  again  !  " 

On  the  last  day  of  his  voyage  to  America,  he  made 
these  entries  in  his  journal  :  — 

"  I  have  just  seen  land.  Blessed  be  God  !  In  a  few 
liours  I  hope  to  meet  my  friends.  What  thanks  are  due  ! 
Let  me  now,  on  approaching  shore,  humbly  purpose  in 
God's  strength,  that  I  will  strive  to  do  his  will  more  perse- 
veringly,  to  be  more  useful,  watchful,  temperate,  kind,  de- 
vout, than  ever  before." 


RKTURIS    Hur.IE.  241 

"  I  am  returned  to  my  friends  ;  let  me  be  more  to  them 
than  I  have  yet  been,  more  attentive,  thoughtful,  social, 
seeking  their  cheerfulness,  interesting  myself  ii**  their  con- 
cerns.    Especially  let  me  be  more  to  my  mother." 

The  following  letter  to  a  sister  will  best  show  his 
feelings  after  his  return  :  — 

"  My  dear  L.  :  —  How  happy  I  am  to  write  to  you  agaii 
from  my  beloved  home  !    Join  with  me  in  gratitude  to  ou» 

merciful  Father,  who  has  guarded  me  and  our  dear  R 

by  sea  and  land,  and  brought  us  back  to  you  all.  We  did, 
indeed,  see  and  feel,  on  our  return,  that  we  had  been  visited 
by  an  irreparable  calamity,  and  for  a  moment  our  loss 
almost  made  us  forget  the  blessings  which  are  spared  to  us. 
But  I  am  now  awake  as  I  never  was  before  to  their  number 
and  value.  My  happiness  has  been  almost  overpowering, 
too  great  to  endure  in  a  world  made  up  of  changes,  and  too 
great,  I  know,  for  the  purposes  of  Providence  towards  me. 
My  health  is  very  much  improved  ;  and  the  voyage  from 
which  I  anticipated  the  prostration  of  my  whole  system 
proved  very  beneficial.  Among  my  many  blessings  was 
the  good  account  I  received  of  you  and  yours." 

And  on  the  Sunday  after  his  arrival,  he  thus  poured 
out  the  fulness  of  his  heart  :  — 

"  Those  of  you,  my  hearers,  who  have  travelled  abroad, 
and  left  far  behind,  and  for  a  long  time,  home,  friends, 
familiar  haunts,  spheres  of  usefulness,  and  employments 
congenial  to  your  tastes,  —  you  can  understand  the  fervent 
gratitude  which  glows  in  my  heart  to-day.  True,  the  mo- 
ment of  return  to  one's  native  land  does  not  bring  unmixed 
happiness ;  for  too  often  we  reenter  our  long-forsaken  dwell- 
ings only  to  miss  cherished  objects  of  affection,  to  see  the 
hand  of  time  pressing  heavily  on  our  earliest,  oldest  friends, 
VOL.    II.  21 


242  EUROPEAN    JOURNEY. 

to  receive  sad  answers  respecting  acquaintances,  to  revive 
griefs  in  those  who  have  been  called  to  mourn  in  our  ab- 
sence, and  thus  to  have  the  solemn  lesson  of  life's  changes 
brought  with  new  power  to  our  minds.  Still,  the  moment  of 
return  after  a  long  and  distant  separation  is,  though  not 
without  tears,  most  blessed.  To  set  foot  once  again  on  our 
native  shore,  where  we  grew  up,  and  where  our  best  affec- 
tions have  taken  root,  —  to  reenter  the  abodes  where  the  ten- 
derest  ties  were  formed,  and  have  gathered  strength,  — to  feel 
ourselves  once  more  at  home,  that  spot  over  which  the  heart 
throws  a  light  such  as  shines  nowhere  else  upon  earth,  —  to 
see  again  the  countenances  of  friends  whose  forms  have 
gone  with  us  in  memory  through  distant  regions,  —  to  feel  the 
embrace  of  those  arms  on  which  we  have  leaned  in  our 
past  hours  of  sorrow  and  pleasure,  —  to  read  in  the  eyes  of 
those  around  us  a  love  which  no  kindness  of  strangers  can 
ever  express,  —  to  exchange  the  constraints,  reserves,  sus- 
picions, which  can  hardly  be  shaken  off  in  foreign  lands,  for 
the  sweet  confidence,  the  free  and  full  communion,  the  open- 
ing of  the  heart,  which  belong  to  domestic  life,  —  to  know 
that  the  lives  for  which  we  have  trembled,  the  beings  in 
whose  existence  our  chief  earthly  happiness  is  centred,'  are 
safe,  —  O,  this  is  joy  !  joy  such  as  blooms  rarely  in  this 
imperfect  state.  To  this  hour  of  return  my  mind  has  press- 
ed forward  ever  since  I  left  you.  Amid  the  new  and  glo- 
rious scenes  through  which  God  has  led  me,  amid  matchless 
beauties  of  nature  and  wonders  of  art,  my  own  dear  country 
has  risen  before  me  with  undiminished  interest  and  bright- 
ness. And  invisible  ties  have  reached  across  the  ocean, 
growing  stronger  by  distance,  and  welcoming  me  back  to 
the  loves,  the  friendships,  the  joys,  the  duties,  the  oppor- 
tunities of  home." 


MEMOIR. 

?ART     THIRD. 


PART    THIRD. 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE   MINISTRY   AND    LITERATURE. 

It  was  in  August,  1823,  that  Dr.  Channing*  had  the 
joy  of  once  more  standing  amid  the  circle  of  loving 
friends,  parishioners,  acquaintances,  who  waited  to  wel- 
come him.  For  a  short  season  he  retired  into  the  coun- 
try, and  then  recommenced  his  public  labors  with  a 
freshness  and  fervor  that  showed  the  new  spiritual  en- 
ergy with  which  he  was  consciously  quickened.  Among 
the  animating  scenes  presented  by  Europe,  so  various 
and  rich  in  suggestion,  and  especially  in  the  long  night- 
watches  and  perfect  repose  of  his  homeward  voyage, 
during  which  he  experienced  an  unwonted  exaltation  and 
transparency  of  mind,  he  had  found  leisure  to  review  the 
past,  to  cast  off  many  shackles  of  custom  and  prejudice, 
to  learn  distinctly  his  own  function,  to  comprehend  the 
spirit  and  tendencies  of  modern  society,  and,  above  all, 
to   ;ommune    more  nearly  than  ever  before  with  God. 

*  Ho  had  received  the  title  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  from  Harvard 
University  in  1820. 

21  » 


246  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

This  year  of  absence  had  been,  unawares  to  himself, 
perhaps,  a  transition-period.  Thenceforward  was  to 
open  a  new  era  of  hfe,  —  an  era  freer  and  brighter, 
more  buoyant  in  hope,  more  large  in  love,  than  even  his 
enthusiastic  youth  at  Richmond,  and  far  more  beautiful 
in  its  serene  confidence,  its  tempered  wisdom,  its  all- 
pervading  holiness  and  humanity.  The  thick-clustered 
blossoms  of  his  early  aspiration  had  given  a  promise, 
truly  kept,  of  branches  bending  to  the  ground  beneath 
the  mellow  fruit  of  ripened  goodness. 

We  are  now  to  trace  the  widening  influence  of  Dr. 
Channing's  later  life  ;  and  there  is  no  better  way  of 
forming  a  true  conception  of  the  diffusive  sympathy, 
the  careful  and  capacious  thought,  the  ready  and  exu- 
berant, yet  calm  and  equable,  energy  which  charac- 
terized it,  than  to  follow  him  in  turn  through  each  of  the 
great  spheres  of  interest  in  which  he  was  called  to  act. 
Commencing,  then,  with  his  more  special  function  as  a 
preacher  and  a  writer,  we  will  contemplate  his  course 
progressively  in  relation  to  social  reform,  to  the  anti- 
slavery  movements,  and  to  politics  ;  we  will  then  regard 
him  as  a  friend  among  his  friends  ;  and,  finally,  look  in 
upon  the  quiet  beauty  of  his  daily  life,  in  the  Boston  and 
Newport  home,  which  he  had  reentered,  as  we  have 
seen,  with  such  overflowing  affection. 

His  first  address  to  his  people,  after  his  return  from 
Europe,  will  exhibit  the  high  and  solemn  views  which 
he  cherished  in  relation  to  the  ministry. 

August,  1823.  "  Through  the  mercy  of  our  Heavenly 
Father,  I  am  allowed  once  again  to  address  you  ;  and  let  me 
open  this  new  period  of  my  ministerial  life  by  paying  m)^ 
tribute  of  gratitude  to  Him  in  whom  all  our  works  should 


ADDRESS    TO    HIS    PEOPLE.  247 

begin  and  end.  To  God,  my  creator  and  preserver,  my 
guide  through  the  pathless  seas,  my  friend  among  strangers, 
my  guardian  in  peril,  my  strength  in  sickness,  who  has  per- 
mitted me  to  see  his  glorious  works,  and  has  brought  me 
back  in  safety  to  a  beloved  home, —  to  God,  who  has  chas- 
tened and  comforted  me,  who  has  spoken  peace  to  my 
wounded  spirit,  and  has  spared  to  me  so  many  friends,  —  to 
God,  who  has  heard  my  prayers,  who  has  placed  me  once 
more  in  the  midst  of  an  affectionate  people,  and  restored  me 
to  the  20urch  which  he  has  intrusted  to  my  care,  —  to  God, 
whose  undeserved,  unwearied,  unfailing  goodness  passeth 
all  understanding,  whose  love  is  the  sweetness  of  all  bless- 
ings, whose  providence  is  our  continual  stay,  whose  grace 
is  our  unfailing  hope,  —  I  would  make  the  only  return  which 
a  creature  can  render,  by  bearing  witness  to  his  goodness, 
and  giving  myself  up  to  his  service  with  joyful,  trustful, 
thankful,  perfect  devotion. 

"  In  this  house  consecrated  to  his  honor,  in  the  presence 
of  his  people,  I  now  renew  the  dedication  of  myself  to  God, 
of  my  whole  being,  life,  thought,  powers,  faculties,  affec- 
tions, influence,  of  all  which  he  has  given  and  upholds.  Let 
these  lips  speak  his  praise,  this  heart  glow  with  his  love,  this 
strength  be  spent  in  doing  his  will !  May  I  serve  him  better 
than  I  have  done,  with  purer  aims,  with  simpler  purposes, 
with  a  soul  more  penetrated  by  his  perfection,  and  with 
success  worthy  of  his  cause  !  I  know  my  infirmit)',  and 
cannot  forget  the  lifeless  services  which  have  too  frequent- 
ly been  offered  by  me.  But  I  would  hope  that  the  recent 
ordinations  of  his  providence,  that  the  lessons  of  depend- 
ence which  have  been  learned  in  sickness  and  affliction,  and 
that  his  preserving  and  restoring  goodness,  will  produce 
some  better  fruit  than  a  transient  sensibility,  will  issue  in  a 
profound,  tender  sense  of  obligation,  and  in  a  firm  purpose 
of  duty.  We  know  that  one  great  end  of  the  mysterious 
mixture  of  evil  and  good  in  our  present  lot  is,  to  draw  us  to 


248  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITER-VTURK. 

God,  to  break  our  spiritual  slumber,  to  soften  our  obduracy, 
and  to  change,  through  the  blended  influences  of  penitence 
and  thankfulness,  of  sorrow  and  joy,  our  faint  convictions 
into  powerful  principles.  My  friends,  join  with  me  in  prayer 
to  God,  that  to  all  his  other  gifts  he  will  add  the  highest  gift 
of  his  holy  spirit,  —  so  that,  strengthened  to  resist  the  selfish 
propensities  which  enslave  the  bad,  and  make  good  men 
groan,  I  may  show  forth  in  ray  whole  life  a  fervent  spirit, 
and  thus  communicate  awaliening  influences  to  my  people. 
For  it  is  not  as  a  private  individual,  and  not  to  relieve  a  bur- 
dened heart,  that  I  speak  here  so  largely  of  God's  goodness. 
Were  I  alone  concerned,  I  should  not  thus  lay  open  my 
soul.  But,  conscious  that  my  chief  work  in  life  is  to  act 
upon  other  minds,  and  to  act  through  sympathy  as  well  as 
instruction,  I  feel  that  you  have  an  interest  in  the  utterance 
and  in  the  increase  of  my  devout  affections.  God  grant,  for 
your  sake,  as  well  as  my  own,  that  they  may  be  living  and 

growing  ! 

"  On  this  occasion,  you  will  not  expect  from  me  a  review 
of  what  I  have  seen  and  heard  during  my  absence ;  but  this 
I  will  say,  that  I  have  discovered  nothing  to  obscure  the 
claims  of  Christianity.  I  have  learned  no  name  mightier 
than  that  of  Jesus,  have  found  no  new  system  of  religion,  no 
new  institution  for  improving  the  character,  no  new  method 
of  salvation,  among  the  schools  of  philosophy  or  the  estab- 
lishments of  policy,  to  shake  my  persuasion  of  the  paramount 
excellence  of  the  gospel.  On  this  point  I  return  unchanged, 
unless  to  be  more  deeply  convinced  of  the  unspeakable 
worth  of  our  religion  be  a  change.  I  have  seen  human 
nature  in  new  circumstances,  but  everywhere  the  same  in 
its  essential  principles,  and  everywhei'e  needing  the  same 
encouragements,  consolations,  inspiring  and  redeeming  in- 
fluences. Whilst,  on  other  subjects,  early  impressions  were 
corrected  or  efliaccd,  I  never  for  a  moment  have  suspected 
that  Christianity  was  an  hereditary,  local  prejudice,  —  never 


ADDRESS  TO  HIS  PEOPLE.  249 

have  found  that  it  was  passing  out  of  sight  in  proportion  as 
I  changed  the  sky  under  wliich  I  was  born.  Like  the  sun, 
I  have  seen  it  shining  above  all  lands,  undiminished  in 
brightness,  and  everywhere  it  has  beamed  forth  as  the  true, 
the  only  light  of  the  world 

"  I  return  with  views  of  society  which  make  me  rejoice 
as  I  never  did  before  in  the  promise  held  out  by  reveakd 
religion  of  a  moral  renovation  of  the  world.  1  expect  less 
and  less  from  revolutions,  political  changes,  violent  strug- 
gles, —  from  public  men  or  public  measures,  —  in  a  word, 
from  any  outward  modification  of  society.  Corrupt  institu- 
tions will  be  succeeded  by  others  equally,  if  not  more,  cor-- 
rupt,  whilst  the  root  or  principle  lives  in  the  heart  of  indi- 
viduals and  nations  ;  and  the  only  remedy  is  to  be  found  in 
a  moral  change,  to  which  Christianity,  and  the  Divine  power 
that  accompanies  it,  are  alone  adequate.  The  voice  of 
prophecy,  announcing  a  purer,  happier  state  of  the  world, 
under  the  holy  and  peaceful  influences  of  Jesus,  never 
sounded  on  my  ear  so  sweetly,  never  breathed  so  cheering 
a  power,  as  after  a  larger  observation  of  mankind  ;  and 
I  turn  to  it,  from  the  boasts  of  reformers,  as  to  the  authentic 
annunciation  of  a  brighter  day  for  humanity 

"  I  return,  my  friends,  as  I  hope,  with  an  increased  sense 
of  the  weight  and  worth  of  my  office.  I  am  not  merely 
using  what  may  be  called  the  language  of  my  profession, 
but  I  speak  from  deepest  conviction,  in  pronouncing  the 
duties  of  the  Christian  ministry  to  be  the  most  important 
which  can  be  imposed  on  human  beings.  And  in  saying 
this,  I  am  far  from  setting  up  any  exclusive  pretensions,  for 
in  these  duties  all  men  share.  All  are  called,  in  their  vari- 
ous relations,  and  according  to  their  power,  to  advance  the 
cause  of  pure  religion  and  of  divine  morality,  to  which  the 
ministry  is  dedicated  ;  and  the  function  of  the  minister  dif- 
fers only  in  this,  that  he  is  appointed  to  give  a  more  imme- 
diate, concentrated  care  to  this  primarj-  interest  of  mankind. 


250  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

The  ministry  has  grown  more  grand  and  solemn,  in  my 
estimation,  because  I  have  a  growing  persuasion  of  the  ex- 
cellence of  the  religion  to  whose  service  it  is  devoted,  and 
a  growing  conviction  that  on  the  ministry  chiefly  depends 
this  cause  of  God.  Whilst  other  means  of  advancing  it  are 
essential  and  efficient,  still,  the  views  of  Christianity  which 
prevail  in  a  community,  the  form  in  which  it  is  embraced, 
the  influences  it  exerts  on  private  character  and  happiness, 
on  domestic  life,  on  public  opinion,  on  social  institutions, 
depend  upon  nothing  so  much  as  the  spirit,  example,  doc- 
trine, zeal,  fidelity  of  ministers.  Man  is  used  by  God  as 
his  mightiest  agent  in  operating  on  man.  I  feel  that  it  is  no 
ordinary  work  to  which  I  am  called,  and  that  it  were  better 
never  to  have  returned  to  it  than  to  bring  a  cold  and  divided 
mind." 

The  very  earnest  feeling  of  responsibility  and  priv- 
ilege, with  which  he  renewed  his  ministerial  labors,  yet 
more  plainly  appears  in  the  two  following  extracts  from 
his  letters  of  that  period  :  — 

"  Boston,  Sept.  22,  1823.  I  rejoice  to  tell  you,  and  I  do 
it  with  lively  gratitude  to  God,  that  I  bore  the  exertions  of 
yesterday  very,  very  well.  I  took  the  whole  morning  ser- 
vices, was  as  long  as  usual,  gave  some  freedom  to  my  feel- 
ings, and  spoke,  though  not  loudly,  yet  with  excitement.  I 
was  wearied,  but  not  exhausted,  and  by  silence  and  absti- 
nence kept  off  feverishness.  This  morning  I  am  as  well  as 
usual.  I  cannot  easily  make  even  you  feel  what  a  relief 
this  success  has  given  me.  1  will  not  say  that  the  happi- 
ness of  my  life  depends  on  my  ability  to  perform  pastoral 
duty,  for  I  hope  I  should  feel  and  enjoy  God's  goodness  in 
any  situation ;  but  the  Christian  ministry,  with  all  its  trials, 
and  they  are  not  small,  is  the  work  on  which  my  heart  is 
set,  and  my  spirit  almost  faints  at  the  thought  of  resign- 
ing it." 


INTEREST    IN    HIS    DUTIES.  261 

*'  Octoher  27,  1823.  I  know  that  it  will  make  you  happy 
to  hear  that  I  have  borne  my  return  to  my  duties  far  better 
than  I  anticipated.  I  have,  perhaps,  been  imprudent,  and 
preached  even  longer  and  more  earnestly  than  formerly  ;  but, 
although  I  have  suffered  a  little,  I  have  received  no  serious 
injury.  For  this  my  heart  overflows  with  gratitude.  I  some- 
times think  myself  happier  than  I  ever  have  been  before. 
To  meet  my  family  once  more  was  an  inexpressible  good, — 
so  great,  that  I  hardly  dared  to  anticipate  it  when  abroad. 
But  the  privilege  of  preaching  again  that  gospel  which  my 
sufferings  have  made  more  dear  to  me,  and  the  hope  that  I 
may  be  allowed  to  continue  to  preach  it,  and  may  labor  with 
more  singleness  of  mind,  fervency,  devotion,  and  success,-^ 
this  completes  my  joy. 

"  I  have  returned  to  my  duties  with  an  interest  which, 
perhaps,  nothing  but  long  inability  to  perform  them  and 
many  trials  could  have  awakened.  And  thus,  my  dear,  we 
are  often  able  to  see  that  it  is  good  for  us  to  have  been  afflict- 
ed. The  inward  process,  which  goes  on  amidst  sufferings, 
often  explains  God's  discipline,  and  we  learn  to  bless  the 
hand  which  chastens,  for  we  see  that  it  is  stretched  out  in 
parental  wisdom  and  mercy.  I  do  not  mean  that  I  have  de- 
rived great  improvement  from  affliction,  for  I  am  aware  that 
the  satisfaction  I  find  in  returning  to  long-suspended  duties 
is  to  be  accounted  for  by  natural  as  well  as  religious  princi- 
ples. But  be  the  cause  what  it  may,  the  effect  is  a  good, 
and  will,  I  trust,  give  greater  power  to  my  ministry.  I  have 
talked  of  myself;  for  your  love,  I  know,  gives  you  an  inter- 
est in  the  subject." 

In  order  to  show  more  fully  his  views  of  the  profession 
which  he  so  unfeignedly  thought  to  be  the  highest  office 
in  modern  society,  far  transcending,  in  the  depth  and  ex- 
tent of  its  influence,  the  sphere  of  the  statesman  or  of  the 
literary  man,  we  will  proceed  to  give  some  further  extracts 


252  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

from  his  sermons  ;  and,  In  doing  so,  shall  avail  ourselves 
of  addresses  which  he  made  to  l)is  people  annually,  on 
the  occasion  of  his  return  from  Rhode  Island,  at  which 
beautiful  retreat  he  began  regularly  to  pass  the  summer 
months  during  this  period  of  his  life.  In  these  discourses, 
he  endeavoured  to  break  through  the  precise  and  ceremo- 
nious style  of  preaching,  which  is  usually  thought  neces- 
sary to  preserve  the  decorum  of  the  pulpit,  and  to  speak 
'n  the  more  direct  and  simple  language  which  friend  uses 
to  friend.  These  sermons  are  thus,  to  a  great  degree, 
autobiographical. 

THE    RESPONSIBILITY    OF    THE    MINISTER. 

1828.  "  In  describing  the  ministry  as  a  highly  responsi- 
ble office,  I  beg  not  to  be  misunderstood.  I  sometimes  hear 
language  employed  on  this  point,  which  offends  me  by  its 
extravagance,  and  which  can  do  only  harm  to  the  teacher 
and  the  taught.  The  minister  is  sometimes  spoken  of  as  if 
on  him  depended  the  salvation  of  his  people, —  as  if  to  him 
it  belonged  to  decide  the  eternal  condition  of  his  congrega- 
tion, —  as  if  by  his  neglect  his  hearers  would  be  plunged 
into  irremediable  woe.  1  certainly  do  not  feel  as  if  any  such 
tremendous  power  were  in  my  hands.  I  would  not  wield  it 
for  the  universe.  I  assume  no  such  trust.  I,  indeed,  offer 
myself  to  you  as  your  spiritual  friend  and  teacher;  but  I  do 
it  in  the  full  knowledge  that  God  has  given  you  better  aids 
than  your  minister,  that  1  am  but  one  out  of  many  means  of 
your  instruction,  and  that,  after  all,  the  chief  responsibility 
falls  upon  yourselves.  Regard  the  ministry  as  important  to 
you,  —  I  will  add,  as  essential  to  the  Christian  cause, —  but 
do  not  lay  upon  it  a  burden  which  no  conscientious  or  benev- 
olent man  for  worlds  would  sustain. 

"  The  minister  is  not  alone  intrusted  with  the  salvation  of 
the  human  race.     True,  the  gospel  is  committed  to  him  ; 


THE    minister's    RESPONSIBILITY.  253 

but  not  to  him  only,  nor  to  him  chiefly.  It  is  intrusted  to  all 
who  receive  it,  for  the  benefit  of  their  fellow-qfeatures.  It 
IS  committed  especially  to  the  parent  for  the  child,  —  to  the 
private  Christian  for  his  family  and  friends,  —  to  the  Sunday- 
school  teacher  for  the  young, —  to  the  more  enlightened  for 
the  less  privileged  classes  of  society.  The  minister  alone  is 
not  to  preach  the  religion.  It  is  to  be  preached  in  the  nur- 
sery, in  the  household,  in  the  place  of  business,  in  friendly 
intercourse,  in  public  assemblies,  as  truly  as  in  the  pulpit; 
and  we  cannot  doubt  that  often  Christian  truth  is  more  effect- 
ually carried  to  the  conscience  and  the  understanding  by 
the  casual  teaching  of  every  day  than  by  more  regular  and 
stated  ministrations." 

EACH    SOUL    MUST    SAVE    ITSELF. 

1827.  "  The  great  work  is  to  be  done  by  the  soul  itself. 
I  cannot,  by  preaching,  even  were  I  to  speak  with  the  tongues 
of  angels,  make  one  of  you  a  Christian ;  nor,  were  I  able, 
ought  I  to  attempt  such  a  work.  You  are  to  be  made  Chris- 
tians by  your  own  faithful  use  of  all  the  means  of  religious 
improvement.  Could  I,  my  friends,  by  a  word  change  your 
minds,  expel  all  error  from  your  understandings,  subdue  your 
passions,  take  from  the  irritable  man  every  impulse  of  anger, 
from  the  worldly  man  every  thought  of  accumulation,  from 
the  proud  man  every  stirring  of  self-elation,  I  should  undoubt- 
edly deliver  you  from  sources  of  trouble ;  but  your  deliver- 
ance, thus  passively  acquired,  would  have  no  more  virtue 
than  would  belong  to  you,  were  death,  by  extinguishing  all 
consciousness,  by  striking  you  from  existence,  to  work  the 
same  deliverance.  Nothing  is  morally  good  in  man  but 
what  he  is  active  in  producing,  but  what  is  the  growth  of  his 
own  free  agency.  Were  I,  by  an  irresistible  influence,  to 
implant  in  you  a  right  faith  and  kind  affections,  I  should  not 
aid,  but  injure  you,  by  taking  from  you  the  opportunities  of 
virtue.     You  would  come  from  my  hand  well-proportioned 

VOL.   II.  22 


254  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

machines  ;  but  machines  you  still  would  be.  The  glory  x>i  a 
free  agent  would  be  gone.  I  come  not  to  exert  such  a  sway, 
not  to  rule  your  minds  or  your  hearts,  but  to  urge  you  to  es- 
tablish within  yourselves  the  sovereignty  of  reason  and  con- 
science by  your  own  reverential  culture  of  these  high  princi- 
ples of  your  nature." 

TRUE  ELOQUENCE. 

1827.  "  To  rule  over  passive  minds,  to  dictate  to  those  who 
will  not  inquire  and  judge,  seems  to  me  a  low  ambition,  a  poor 
dominion.  But  the  power  of  convincing,  persuading,  improv- 
ing free  and  active  and  self- relying  minds  is  a  noble  endow- 
ment. This  is  the  only  power  over  men  which  I  covet.  So 
desirous  am  I  to  dissuade  you  from  putting  yourselves  passive- 
ly into  other  men's  hands,  that  I  would  advise  you  to  distrust 
much  of  what  is  called  eloquence  in  ihe  pulpit.  There  is  a  true 
eloquence,  which  you  cannot  too  much  honor,  and  it  is  char- 
acterized chiefly  by  this  mark  :  it  calls  into  vigorous  exercise 
both  the  understanding  and  the  heart  of  the  hearer.  It  haa 
no  design  upon  men's  minds,  does  not  desire  to  bear  them 
away  as  by  a  torrent,  does  not  hurry  them  to  rash  conclu- 
sions, does  not  appeal  to  prejudices,  but  treats  the  under- 
standing fairly,  generously,  invites  it  to  weigh  proofs,  and 
aims  to  inspire  it  with  a  supreme  love  of  truth.  This  is  the 
highest  characteristic  of  genuine  eloquence,  that  it  gives  tone 
and  energy  to  the  hearer's  mind,  gives  him  a  consciousness 
of  his  own  powers,  and  enables  him  to  act  from-  his  own 
will  and  from  his  own  judgment.  Against  such  eloquence, 
of  course,  I  would  not  warn  you.  But  there  is  another  kind, 
and  one  far  more  commonly  met  with, —  because  requiring 
little  talent  and  no  elevation  of  soul,  —  which  deals  chiefly 
with  men's  fears,  which  palsies  and  enslaves  the  intellect, 
which  makes  the  hearer  distrustful  of  his  own  faculties,  which 
overwhelms  him  with  appalling  images,  and  brings  him  into 
dependence  upc  n  the  speaker.     This,  I  have  said,  requires 


END    OF    THE    MINISTRY,  255 

little  talent;  though,  in  the  present  state  of  society,  it  exerts 
great  sway.  A  man  of  common  sagacity  may  bhndfold  and 
lead  behmd  him  liis  fellow-creatures.  A  miTch  higher  and 
nobler  skill  is  required  to  heal  and  strengthen  men's  intellec- 
tual  sight,  and  to  open  before  them  large  and  glorious  pros- 
pects."  ^ 

THE    END    OF    THE    MINISTRY. 

1830.     "I  have  been  called  to  aid  you  in  that  inward 
work  on  which  the  happiness  of  your  present  and  future  be- 
ing depends,  -  the  work  of  subduing  evil,  sin,  the  power  of 
temptation,  and  of  strengthening  and  building  up  in  your- 
selves  Christian  faith  and  virtue.     It  has  been  my  duty  to 
urge  on  you  the  need  of  continual  improvement  in  character, 
as  the  only  thing  worth   living   for, -without   which    life 
would  be  worse  than  lost.     I  have  aimed,  you  will  bear  me 
witness,  to  excite  you  to  the  most  earnest  culture  of  your 
own  minds,  as  that  without  which  nothing  uttered  here,  and 
nothing  befalling  you   in  God's  providence,  would  do  you 
good.     I  have  amied  to  raise  your  thoughts  to  that  perfec 
tion,  that  dignity,  that  likeness  to  God,  that  height  of  virtue 
and  happmess,  to  which  Jesus  Christ  came  to  exalt  us,  and  to 
which  we  may  all  rise   by  fidelity  to  his  religion.     And  I 
have  exhibited  to  you  the  depth  of  guilt,  shame,  and  misery, 
into  which,  by  self-neglect,  by  abandoning  ourselves  to  low 
and  evil  passions,  we  may  all  be  plunged.     It  has  been  my 
aim  to  win  you  to  an  unreserved  devotedness  to  God  -  to 
set  before  you  such  views  of  the  Infinite  Being,  in  his'char- 
acter,  designs,  and  modes  of  action,  as  were  suited  to  attract 
to  him  the  whole  strength  of  your  love  and  trust  and  obedi- 
ence.     In  a  word,  it  has  been  my  office  to  dispense  to  you 
he  religion  of  Jesus  Christ.     I  have  especially  sought  to 
teach  you  the  great,  I  may  say  the  single,  purpose  of  this 
religion,  which  is  to  form  you  after  the  spirit  and  likene.ss  of 
its  Divine  Author,  and  thus  to  give  you  the  first  fruits  of 


856  THE    MINISTRY   AND   LITERATURE. 

heaven  while  you  live  on  earth,  as  well  as  to  prepare  you 
for  that  perfect  and  immortal  state. 

"  Such  has  been  my  work.  Its  greatness  fills  my  mind 
the  more  I  contemplate  it.  Time,  which  shows  us  the  e"  p- 
tiness  of  most  earthly  pursuits,  only  magnifies,  in  my  :e- 
gard,  this  glorious  office.  On  what  sublime  and  heart- 
thrilling  themes  have  I  been  called,  been  permitted,  to  speak  ! 
It  seems  to  me,  that,  through  the  universe,  no  words  of  mcie 
si>lemn  import  than  God,  Iwbiortality,  Perfection,  can  le 
uttered,  —  that  no  higher  themes  can  absorb  the  most  exalted 
intelligences  through  eternity." 

HIS    OWN    AIMS. 

1830.  "  That  I  have  performed  this  work  imperfectly,  I 
feel.  No  one  can  be  more  penetrated  with  a  sense  of  my 
deficiencies  than  myself ;  and  my  consciousness  of  these  in- 
creases, because  the  religion  which  I  am  called  to  preach 
continually  rises  before  me  in  greater  beauty  and  dignity, 
•with  surer  promises  of  happiness,  more  widely  reaching 
claims,  more  animating  motives,  and  more  solemn  sanctions. 
Still,  my  heart  bears  me  witness  that  I  have  sincerely  labored 
to  carry  home  to  the  souls  of  my  fellow-beings  the  divine 
truth  which  I  have  been  privileged  to  impart.  This  truth 
has  been  ray  meditation  and  study  by  night  and  by  day.  I 
have  given  to  it  the  strength  of  my  body  and  mind.  It  has 
absorbed  me,  almost  consumed  me.  Every  new  or  brighter 
view  of  it  has  seemed  to  me  a  recompense  and  happiness 
which  I  would  not  have  exchanged  for  any  outward  good. 
The  hope  of  doing  something  to  rescue  this  divine  religion 
from  the  corruptions  which  so  mournfully  disfigure  and 
darken  it, —  the  hope  of  bringing  out  more  clearly  some  of 
its  divine  features,  and  thus  of  contributing  to  extend  and 
establish  its  empire  on  the  earth,  has  been  the  dearest,  the 
most  cherished  hope  of  my  life.  So  far,  I  trust,  I  have  been 
loyal  to  the  cause  of  my  Master.     \A'hether  I  have  not  con- 


CHANGE    OF    TONE.  257 

hned  myself  too  exclusively  to  this  intellectual  labor,  whether 
I  have  not  spent  my  strength  too  much  in  solitary  reflection, 
whether  a  more  active  life  and  more  frequent  intercourse 
with  my  hearers  might  not  have  been  more  useful, —  these 
are  questions  which  I  cannot  determine.  I  may  have  erred  ; 
some,  perhaps,  may  think  I  have.  I  may  have  been  self- 
indulgent,  in  the  path  I  have  taken,  and  you  might  have  been 
more  aided  by  services  which  I  have  withheld.  I  am  not 
anxious  to  justify  myself.  I  pray  God  that  my  error  —  if  it 
has  been  one  — may  be  forgiven,  and  that  his  providence  may 
avert  from  you  the  evils  of  my  want  of  wisdom  or  fidelity." 

An  appreciating  reader  of  the  foregoing  extracts  will  be 
conscious  of  a  gradual  change  of  tone  in  Dr.  Channing's 
mode  of  address,  —  a  change  more  readily  felt  than  char- 
acterized, —  but  which,  by  way  of  suggestion,  we  will  de- 
note by  saying  that  it  was  constantly  becoming  less  minis- 
terial and  more  manly.  He  more  and  more  regarded  the 
religious  teacher  as  the  ideal  of  what  all  men  should  be, 
an  inspirer  of  life.  Universal  sanctifiication  of  the  whole 
character  and  conduct  was  the  end  which  he  aimed  to 
present  vividly  to  his  hearers,  as  the  only  true  object  for 
a  human  being's  aspiration.  And  force  of  good-will  — 
not  sentimentality,  not  imaginative  enthusiasm,  not  mere- 
ly kindly  afFectionateness,  but  a  brave,  hopeful,  con- 
scientious, confiding  love  —  was  the  spirit  which  flowed 
out  from  him  in  every  word  and  look.  This  expansive 
feeling  in  relation  to  the  animating  influence  which  a  relig- 
iDus  teacher  should  exert  appears  very  fully  in  his  letters. 

"  Neioport,  Aug.  28,  1828.  I  consider  my  profession  as 
almost  infinitely  raised  above  all  others,  when  its  true  na- 
ture is  understood,  and  its  true  spirit  imbibed.  But  as  it  is 
too  often  viewed  and  followed,  it  seems  to  me  of  little  worth 

22* 


258  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

to  him  who  exercises  it,  or  to  those  on  whom  it  ought  to  act. 
It  requires  moral  elevation  of  sentiment,  that  the  purposes 
of  Christianity  may  be  understood,  and  moral  energy,  a  spirit 
of  self-sacrifice,  that  those  purposes  may  be  pursued  with 
resolution  and  power.  I  do  not  mean  that  a  young  man  is 
to  possess  these  requisites  in  a  great  degree,  at  first,  —  but 
he  must  have  the  seeds,  and  give  some  promise  of  them. 
To  one  who  has  this  generous  style  of  character,  this  capaci- 
ty of  devotedness  and  disinterestedness,  I  consider  my  call- 
ing as  leaving  all  others  very,  very  far  behind.  But  when 
taken  up  for  its  respectability,  for  reputation,  for  a  support, 
and  followed  mechanically,  drudgingly,  with  little  or  no 
heartiness  and  devotion,  or  when  seized  upon  fiinatically  and 
with  a  blind  and  bigoted  zeal,  I  think  as  poorly  of  it  as  men 
of  the  world  do,  who,  I  grieve  to  say,  have  had  too  much 
reason  for  setting  us  ministers  down  among  the  drones  of  the 
hive  of  society." 

*'  Portsmouth,  July  7,  1828.*  In  our  profession,  as  in 
every  other,  success  depends  chiefly  on  the  heartiness  with 
which  a  man  enters  into  it.  He  must  throw  his  soul  into  his 
work.  I  am  the  more  encouraged  about  your  success,  from 
the  proof  you  have  given  of  zeal  in  a  good  cause.  You 
think  nobly  of  the  object  to  which  you  are  about  to  devote 
yourself,  and  this  is  no  small  part  of  a  minister's  preparation. 
You  may  meet,  at  the  outset,  some  disheartening  circum- 
stances. I  suspect  most  ministers  can  tell  you  of  their  hours 
of  despondency,  especially  at  the  beginning  of  their  course. 
But  true  courage  fights  the  enemy  within,  as  well  as  abroad  ; 
and  I  shall  be  disappointed  indeed,  if  you  are  wanting  in  this 
generous  virtue.  Your  friend  and  brother." 

*'  Portsmouth,  Rhode  Island,  June  18,  1828.  t  The  peo- 
ple here   want   to  be  awakened,  certainly;  but  they  have 

•  To  Dr.  Charles  Follen.  f  To  Orville  Dewey,  D.  D. 


THE    TEACHING    OF    JESUS.  259 

passed  through  the  ordinary  process  of  revivals  without  much 
apparent  benefit.  I  feel,  more  and  more,  that  the  people  at 
large  need  to  be  protected  against  these  modes  of^assault,  by 
having  some  more  distinct  and  thorough  notions  presented  to 
them  of  what  religion  or  virtue  is  than,  perhaps,  any  of  us 
have  yet  given.  The  identity  of  religion  and  universal 
goodness  is  what  they  have  hardly  dreamed  of.  You  have 
e.xpressed  some  of  the  best  views  on  the  subject  which  I  have 
heard  ;  and,  if  your  intellect  loill  work,  in  spite  of  your  plans 
of  repose,  perhaps  it  could  not  find  a  more  useful  topic- 

"  My  mind  turns  much  on  the  general  question,  What  can 
bo  done  for  the  scattering  of  the  present  darkness  ?  I  think 
I  see,  more  and  more,  that  the  ministry,  as  at  present  exer- 
cised, though,  on  the  whole, a  good,  is  sadly  defective.  What 
would  be  the  result  of  a  superior  man,  not  of  the  clergy, 
giving  a  course  of  lectures  on  the  teaching  of  Jesus,  just  as 
he  would  give  one  on  the  philosophy  of  Socrates  or  Plato  ? 
Cannot  this  subject  be  taken  out  of  the  hands  of  ministers  ? 
Cannot  the  higher  minds  be  made  to  feel  that  Christianity 
belongs  to  them  as  truly  as  to  the  priest,  and  that  they  dis- 
grace and  degrade  themselves  by  getting  their  ideas  of  it 
from  '  our  order '  so  exclusively  ?  Cannot  learned  men  come 
to  Christianity,  just  as  to  any  other  system,  for  the  purpose 
of  ascertaining  what  it  is  ?  " 

"  Dec.  9,  1829.*  Is  the  time  never  coming,  when  Chris- 
tians will  be  less  dependent  on  ministers  than  they  now  are  ? 
I  feel  deeply  the  defects  of  the  present  organization  of  the 
Christian  church.  '  Every  joint  of  the  body  should  work 
effectually '  for  the  common  growth  ;  and  now  a  few  men 
have  a  monopoly  of  the  work." 

"  Feb.  22,  1840.  The  ministry  need  not  continue  what  it 
has  been,  and  the  time  is  coming  when  it  will  be  found  to  be 

*  To  Joseph  Tuckerman,  D.  D. 


260  THE    MINISTRY   AND    LITERATURE. 

the  n  )st  effectual  mode  of  getting  near  to  our  fellow-creat- 
ures. It  demands  great  energy  of  thought  and  purpose  ; 
and  when  so  followed,  promises  unspeakable  good." 

"  Newport^  Rhode  Island^  Sept.  5,  1837.*  One  of  the 
discouraging  symptoms  of  the  day  is,  that  so  few  persons, 
except  of  the  clerical  profession,  make  morals  and  religion 
the  subject  of  investigation  and  serious  inquiry.  To  most, 
religion  is  a  tradition  or  a  feeling.  The  noblest  subjects  of 
human  thought,  and  those  in  which  all  men  have  an  equal 
interest,  are  given  up  to  a  small  body  of  professional  men. 
The  effects  of  this  making  theology  a  monopoly  of  a  few  are 
disastrous  alike  to  the  many  and  the  few.  Theology  has  be- 
come technical,  a  trade,  a  means  of  power.  It  has  taken 
a  monastic  character,  been  severed  from  common  life,  and 
thus  been  turned  into  an  instrument  of  superstition.  The 
multitude,  in  their  ignorance,  have  easily  fallen  under  the 
dominion  of  fear,  and  have  bowed  their  understandings  to  ir- 
rational and  degrading  doctrines.  It  always  cheers  me,  when 
I  find  a  man,  not  of  my  profession,  who  understands  the  dig- 
nity of  moral  and  religious  truth,  and  seeks  it  as  inestimably 
precious.  These  remarks  will  explain  the  pleasure  your 
letter  gave  me.  So  far  from  feeling  that  you  used  an  undue 
freedom  in  your  suggestions,  I  was  truly  grateful  for  them. 
We  ministers  need  the  freest  communication  with  our  intel- 
ligent brethren  of  the  laity.  I  use  this  word  for  want  of  a 
better,  though  I  dislike  it.  They  often  understand  the  moral 
wants  of  the  community  better  than  we  can.  They  know, 
as  we  cannot,  when  we  beat  the  air  or  waste  our  strength  on 
unimportant  matters,  and  where  the  main  obstacles  to  human 
improvement  lie.  What  volume  could  bo  laid  open  to  a 
minister  so  useful  as  the  secret  conviction  of  his  thinking 
hearers,  in  regard  to  the  character  and  etlccts  of  his  labors? 

•  To  Win.  Plumer,  Jun.,  Esq.,  Epping,  New  Hampshire. 


POWER    OF    THE    PULPIT.  261 

For  want  of  such  communication,  we  work  much  in  the 
dark." 

"  1840.  That  the  people  are  in  a  condition  to  be  raised, 
impelled,  by  the  word  of  life  from  the  pulpit  and  in  conver- 
sation, I  have  strong  reason  to  believe.  The  way  is  prepar- 
ing, the  mountains  are  sinking,  the  rough  places  becoming 
plain,  and  the  great  salvation,  the  true  redemption,  which 
Chris'ianity  is  to  effect,  is  to  be  revealed  more  distinctly  than 
in  the  past.  But  great  obstructions  are  still  to  be  removed  ; 
and  this  is  no  painful  thought  to  those  who  believe  that  ob- 
structions are  intended  to  call  forth  holy  energy,  and  that 
they  will  yield  to  the  sufferings  and  toils  of  faith  and  love. 
Some  will  call  me  a  safe  prophet,  when  I  say  that  I  have 
little  hope  of  living  to  see  what  I  predict." 

"  1840.*  We  agreed  on  most  points,  except  the  ministry, 
which  he  thinks  should  not  form  a  profession,  but  be  exer- 
cised by  the  spiritual  who  are  engaged  in  common  affairs. 
His  means  of  observation  have  been  wider  than  mine,  and 
his  statement  of  the  evils  attending  our  common  arrangement 
was  stronger  than  I  have  heard.  I  am  satisfied,  however, 
that,  under  our  present  social  state,  we  cannot  reconcile  with 
a  common  calling  the  culture  needed  to  religious  teaching. 
If  our  '  communities '  prosper,  the  difficulties  may  cease. 
Men  may  then  support  themselves  and  still  be  ministers,  and 
I  shall  rejoice  in  the  change.  It  is  wrong  to  charge  on  our 
ministers  alone  many  of  the  evils  attending  our  present 
church  system.  The  false  and  unreasonable  expectations  of 
the  people,  wrong  notions  of  the  relation  between  them  and 
the  teachers,  the  hope  of  performing  by  proxy  what  the 
soul  can  alone  perform  for  itself,  the  love  of  excitement 
rather  than  of  spiritual  progress,  —  these  defects  of  the  hear- 

•  To  Mrs.  E.  L.  FoIIen. 


262  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

ers  make  our  office  a  very  trying  and  tempting  one.     Hap- 
pily, the  perception  of  evils  is  a  step  tovi^ards  their  removal." 

The  dislike  of  spiritual  dictatorship,  sanctimonious  dig- 
nity, and  pompous  arrogance,  which  appears  more  or  less 
through  tl>ese  papers,  was  exceedingly  strong  in  Dr. 
Channing.  The  designation  of  '  Reverend,'  even,  was 
most  disagreeable  to  him.  He  had  no  taste  for  being  set 
up  as  a  saint  or  an  oracle,  and  wished  no  influence  but 
that  which  arose  from  perfect  naturalness.  He  thought 
it  was  time  for  much  of  the  superstitious  homage  to  the 
clergy  to  vanish.  As  appears  from  the  last  letter,  indeed, 
his  only  reason  for  wishing  the  ministry  to  be  preserved 
as  a  distinct  function  in  society  was  his  belief  that,  amidst 
the  anxieties  incident  to  existing  social  relations,  only  the 
very  strong  could  keep  their  spirits  free,  only  the  very 
tall  in  moral  stature  so  raise  their  heads  above  the  dust 
of  the  caravan  as  to  see  the  horizon  and  the  heavens  and 
the  direction  of  the  march. 

But  the  very  motive  which  prompted  Dr.  Channing's 
desire  to  see  the  artificial  eminence  broken  down  on 
which  fear  and  policy  have  isolated  the  clergy,  and  the 
props  of  conventional  decencies  swept  away  by  which 
even  the  stupid  and  selfish  feel  themselves  upheld  in  a 
position  of  power,  and  to  have  every  minister  left  to 
stand  firm  or  to  fall,  according  to  his  manhood,  was  an 
ever-deepening  reverence  for  the  function  of  the  prophet, 
—  the  real  communicator  of  spiritual  light.  Amidst 
crowds  of  business-men,  energetically  turning  the  vast  re- 
sources of  modern  science  to  the  increase  and  accumu- 
lation of  w^ealth,  —  amidst  struggling  political  parties, 
'Tiade  restless  by  the  spirit  of  liberty  and  the  half-recog- 
flized  rights  of  all   men,  rights    possessed    so   partially 


MORAL  GREATNESS  NEEDED.  263 

even  by  the  privileged,  —  amidst  the  growing  multitude 
of  teachers,  literary,  scientific,  philosophical,  plying  the 
countless  means  of  diffusing  intelligence,  —  he  longed  to 
see  a  body  of  men  step  forward,  fitted  by  the  universality 
at  once  and  the  unity  of  their  aim,  their  elevation  above 
selfish  meanness,  their  unfaltering  hope  for  humanity,  their 
joyful  devotedness  to  God,  to  be  the  conscience  of  com- 
munities and  nations.  He  felt  that  the  age  was  really 
inspired  with  a  divine  power  of  love,  and  he  looked  for  a 
ministry  pure  and  fervent  enough  to  be  the  medium 
through  which  this  new  life  might  find  a  voice  of  com- 
mand, and  make  itself  felt  with  a  miraculous,  renovating 
touch.  He  consecrated  himself  to  the  work  of  being, 
according  to  the  needs  and  opportunities  of  his  age  anc 
land,  a  mediator  of  this  heavenly  influence,  and  thus  truly 
a  minister  of  religion,  —  of  reunion  between  man  and 
man,  and  man  and  God.  And,  largely  as  we  have  already 
quoted  from  his  sermons  and  letters,  in  illustration  of  his 
views,  justice  to  him  demands  that  we  should  now  give 
further  extracts  from  his  private  papers.  In  these  he 
expresses  himself  with  yet  more  freedom  and  energy  of 
feeling.  We  shall  copy  many  passages,  even  at  the  risk 
of  repetition,  because  they  will  open  to  us  the  very  heart 
of  the  writer.  Without  attempting  any  methodical  ar- 
rangement of  these  fragments,  we  may,  for  the  sake  of 
convenience,  group  them  under  distinct  heads. 

THE  MORAL  GREATNESS  NEEDED  IN  THE  MINISTER. 

*'  The  minister  needs  an  heroic  mould  of  mind,  a  sustained 
and  habitual  grandeur  of  conception,  the  energy  of  which 
may  breathe  itself  into  all  around.  He  is  not  to  have  the 
brightness  of  his  conviction  crossed  by  a  single  shadow  of  the 
fear  of  man.     A  lofty,  ever-present  consciousness  of  being 


264  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITKKATURE. 

consecrated  to  the  highest  possible  work  on  earth  —  the 
awakening  and  strengthening  of  what  is  divinest  in  human 
nature  —  is  to  possess  him.  He  is  to  move  anong  his  fel- 
lows in  the  majesty  and  serenity  which  befit  devotedness  to 
heavenly  ends.  The  sublime  thought  of  the  divine  love, 
which  it  is  Christ's  end  to  awaken,  must  lift  his  mind  above 
all  transient  interests  and  fortify  him  against  allurement 
He  who  sees  this  as  a  reality  beholds  a  light  that  dims  al. 
outward  glory.  This  firm  and  lofty  tone  of  mind  is  what  we 
need.  We  should  adopt  perfection  as  our  own  good,  with 
a  deep  comprehension  of  its  commanding  beauty.  We 
should  speak  of  it  with  the  language  which  it  would  itself 
adopt,  could  it  reveal  in  words  its  divinity.  We  should  an- 
nounce this  likeness  to  God,  as  the  end  to  be  sought, 
not  as  if  teaching  a  proposition  into  which  we  had  rea- 
soned ourselves,  but  as  if  declaring  a  profound,  radiant, 
all -penetrating  intuition,  —  as  if  speaking  from  experience." 
"  Positiveness,  assumption,  is  an  entirely  different  state  of 
feeling  from  the  elevation  of  soul  wrought  in  us  by  the  pres- 
ence of  great  thoughts.  The  devotion  of  the  whole  heart  to 
the  pursuit  of  celestial  goodness,  the  consciousness  of  such 
an  aim,  produces  no  dogmatism,  no  conceit  of  infallibility. 
A  minister  should  have  the  authority  of  high  virtue.  His 
tone  should  be  that  of  irreconcilable  war  against  the  peculiar 
evils  of  his  times,  and  of  resolute  resistance  to  the  influences 
of  ease,  opinion,  epicurism,  which  bribe  him  to  surrender 
principle.  But  this  moral  energy  is  not  to  be  wasted  on 
what  is  exterior  and  superficial ;  it  is  to  be  concentrated  in 
opposition  to  the  very  heart  and  life  of  what  is  evil  in  the 
society  around  him  and  in  the  age.  He  is  to  feel  that  he  is 
called  to  withstand  the  turbulence  of  the  passions,  deep- 
rooted  prejudices,  the  insidious  influence  of  public  inslitutiojis 
and  of  social  customs,  and  that  his  only  reliance,  under  God, 
is  on  that  mightiest  power  in  the  human  soul,  the  moral 
power." 


SIAGLENESS    OF    l^UUi'OSE.  2o5 

"  We  want  singleness  of  purpose,  to  have  the  whole  soul 
possessed  by  a  calm,  deep,  swelling  admiration  for  the 
divine  beauty  of  goodness,  to  be  resolved  to  proiflrote  this  by 
every  energy  of  our  nature.  We  should  be  filled  with  a  di- 
vine fervor  of  soul,  an  expanding  warmth  of  love.  This  liv- 
ing love  has  been  the  power  of  all  true  friends  and  teachers 
of  mankind.  It  dissolves  all  restraints,  ceremonies,  barriers, 
opens  to  us  the  hearts  of  our  fellow-men,  and  gives  to  the 
tone  and  countenance  a  winning  charm.  Flow  should  we  feel 
ourselves  to  be  acting  in  concert  with  God,  in  the  fulfilment 
of  the  grand  design  to  which  Jesus  and  all  good  beings  are 
devoted,  and  which  comprehends  the  infinite  happiness  and 
glory  of  all  spirits  !  How  should  the  ineffable  sublimity  of 
this  end  enlarge,  invigorate,  purify  us  !  The  thought  of 
man's  possible  communion  with  God,  and  of  his  capacity 
of  unbounded  participation  in  the  Divine  goodness,  should 
give  a  loftiness  and  energy  of  purpose  to  the  preacher  whic^ 
should  never  for  an  instant  forsake  him,  but  make  him 
unaflfectedly  superior  to  all  outward  dignities,  undaunted 
amidst  the  opposition  of  the  great,  and  tenderly  sympa- 
thizing and  respectful  to  the  most  debased." 

"  What  we  need  is  a  spiritual  force  that  will  not  take  the 
form  and  hue  of  the  conditions  or  persons  among  which  we 
live,  but  will  resist  debasing  influences,  and  mould  all 
around  us  after  the  pattern  of  great  ideas.  We  need  such 
an  unfaltering  faith  in  Christian  virtue,  its  supremacy,  its 
sure  triumph,  as  will  enable  us  to  assert  its  claims  in  speech 
and  action  even  in  the  most  discouraging  circumstances. 
With  all  mildness,  there  must  be  in  us  an  uncompromising 
spirit.  Having  found  the  true  good,  we  cannot  yield  to 
public  opinion,  to  private  friendship,  or  to  any  kind  or  meas- 
ure of  opposition.  We  must  pay  no  heed  to  capricious 
estimates.  Censure  should  not  cost  us  a  moment  of  anxiety, 
but  only  turn  our  regards  more  deeply  inward  to  the  Divine 
Oracle,  the  Voice  of  God,  the  Spirit  of  Christ.     The  fetters 

VOL.  11.  23 


266  THE    MIMSrKV    AM)    MTERATURE, 

of  worldly  com[)runiisc  must  be  shaken  ofT,  or  \\c  cannol 
take  one  free  step." 

"  What  faculties  slumber  within,  weighed  down  by  the 
chains  of  custom !  The  want  of  courage  to  carry  out  greo.t 
principles,  and  to  act  on  them  at  all  risks,  is  fatal  to  origi- 
nality and  freshness.  Conformity  benumbs  and  cramps 
genius  and  creative  power.  We  must  commit  ourselves 
fully  to  a  principle  of  truth  and  right ;  we  must  dare  to  fol- 
low it  to  the  end.  Moral  independence  is  the  essential  con- 
dition of  loving  warmly,  thinking  deeply,  acting  efficiently, 
of  having  the  soul  awake,  of  true  life.  This  habit  of  reli- 
ance on  principle  should  give  us  a  buoyant  consciousness  of 
superiority  to  every  outward  influence.  A  far-sighted 
anticipation  of  great  results  from  worthy  deeds  should  make 
us  strenuous  in  action,  and  fill  us  with  a  cheerful  trust.  No 
particular  interests  should  absorb  our  sympathies ;  but  our 
hearts  should  flow  out  in  sensibility  to  every  thing  which 
concerns  numanity,  so  that  the  pursuit  of  particular  objects 
may  expand  and  exalt  our  whole  power  of  good,  and  free  us 
from  all  narrowness  of  spirit  or  fanaticism.  A  minister 
should  be  possessed  with  the  consciousness  of  a  higher  law 
than  public  opinion,  traditionary  usage,  prevalent  fashion. 
Strictness,  sternness,  may  often  be  demanded  of  him  to 
whom  conscience  is  the  supreme  law  ;  and  power  and 
majesty  belong  to  him  who  yields  himself  up  in  willing  obe- 
dience to  the  absolute  rectitude  of  God." 

"  A  bold,  free  tone  in  conversation,  the  decided  expres- 
sion of  pure  and  lofty  sentiment,  may  be  influential  to 
change  the  whole  temper  and  cast  of  thinking  of  society 
around  us.  Are  we  not  traitors  to  great  truths,  when  we 
suppress  the  utterance  of  them,  and  let  the  opposite  errors 
pass  unrebuked  .?  Ought  not  the  spirit  of  the  world  to  be 
continually  met  with  mildness,  yet  unfaltering  firmness  ? 
It  cannot  be  opposed  too  steadily  and  uncompromisingly. 
To  bring  out  a  noble  spirit  into  daily  intercourse  is  a  more 


DEVOTEDNESS  AND   SELF-SUPPORT.  267 

procious  offering  to  truth  than  retired  speculation  and  writ- 
ing. He  who  leaves  a  holy  life  behind  hiiii^  to  bless  and 
guide  his  fellows,  bequeaths  to  the  world  a  richer  legacy, 
than  any  book.  The  true,  simple  view  of  right  should  be 
presented  without  disguise.  High  principles  are  to  be  ad- 
vanced as  real  laws ;  the  vague  uncertainty  wrapped  round 
them  by  unmeaning  professions  and  practical  renunciation 
is  to  be  stripped  away,  and  they  are  to  be  firmly  set  up  as 
standards  for  the  judgment  of  all  men,  public  and  private. 
No  air  of  superiority,  contempt,  anger,  no  fault-finding, 
cynicism,  no  thought  of  self,  should  mingle  with  this  tes- 
timony to  right ;  but  a  true  love  of  mankind,  a  reverence  of 
virtue,  a  desire  to  elevate  all  men  to  the  nobleness  for  whicli 
they  are  destined,  should  manifest  the  depth  and  purity  of 
our  moral  convictions." 

"  An  all-pervading  devotion  to  goodness  should  stamp  the 
whole  character,  conduct,  conversation.  But  wisdom  should 
guide  this  frankness.  The  mind  should  not  be  borne  away 
Dy  a  fervor  which  it  cannot  restrain.  There  should  be  man- 
ifest self-direction  and  dignified  self-command.  Let  there 
be  no  whining  sentimentality  about  virtue,  but  a  manly  con- 
sciousness of  the  greatness  of  character  to  which  every 
child  of  God  should  attain,  —  a  calm  elevation  of  thought 
and  aim,  —  a  cordial  sympathy  with  all  that  is  generous  in 
society  and  individuals,  —  a  deep  sense  of  the  reality  and 
practicableness  of  heavenly  excellence,  —  a  rational,  yet 
glowing,  consciousness  of  the  true  glory  of  a  spiritual  being. 
The  presence  of  our  fellow-men  should  not  rob  us  of  self- 
respect,  should  not  restrain  us,  —  restrain  the  will  from  en- 
ergy, the  intellect  from  bold  and  freest  thought,  the  con- 
science from  prescribing  highest  duties.  We  must  be  pal- 
sied by  no  fear  to  offend,  no  desire  to  please,  no  deoend- 
ence  upon  the  judgment  of  othei's.  The  consciousness  c^ 
self-subsistence,  of  disinterested  conformity  to  high  princi- 
ple, must  communicate  an  open  unreserve  to  our  manueiis. 


268  THE    MINISTIIV    AND    LITERATURE. 

We  should  never  distrust  the  power  of  a  great  truth  fuiily 
uttered.  To  act  on  others,  there  must  be  decision  of  intel- 
lect as  well  as  of  affection,  —  a  resolute  energy  of  the 
whole  man." 

"  What  a  privilege  is  it  to  awaken  in  the  souls  of  men  a 
consciousness  of  their  moral  relationship  to  God  !  This  truly 
is  a  creative  work.  In  proportion  as  the  spiritual  gains  pre- 
dominance over  the  material,  in  our  nature,  does  not  the 
soul  lake  possession  of  the  body,  shine  through  its  features, 
attitude,  looks,  and  reveal  itself  to  those  whom  words  cannot 
reach  ?  What  faith  in  God  and  virtue  may  a  tone  express  ! 
Do  we  comprehend  the  power  of  love,  when  it  truly  reigns 
in  us,  how  it  encircles  us  with  an  atmosphere,  pervades 
those  around  us,  melts  down  resistance,  soothes  excitement.'' 
A  mighty  love,  diffusing  itself  through  eye,  voice,  form, 
what  can  it  not  accomplish  ?  Should  we  not  raise  ourselves 
to  this  state  of  calm  intenseness  of  love  }  No  man  knows 
the  measure  of  his  influence  till  this  force  abides  in  him. 
How  many  all  around  us  are  really  dead  !  But  who  can  lie 
inert  and  torpid  before  the  presence  of  an  absorbing,  over 
flowing  affection  ">  Christ's  life  was  a  revelation  of  the 
spiritual  love  which  filled  him.  Such  a  love,  and  such  a  life, 
should  be  sought  by  us." 

"  The  minister  is  to  speak  as  did  Christ,  listening  to  the 
Divine  Oracle,  and  ready  to  suffer,  and  to  die,  if  need  be, 
for  the  truth,  A  superiority  to  all  outward  considerations  is 
the  first  qualification  for  the  rightful  pursuit  of  his  profes- 
sion. If  he  desires  to  stand  fair  with  men,  he  will  be  a 
traitor  to  his  Lord.  If  he  asks  himself  what  will  please  his 
hearers,  rather  than  what  will  benefit  them,  he  desecrates 
his  calling.  Is  he  whose  very  work  is  to  reform  society  to 
take  society  as  his  rule  ?  The  Christian  minister  is  not  sent 
to  preach  cold  abstractions,  to  talk  of  virtue  and  vice  in 
general  terms,  to  weave  moral  essays  for  his  hearers  to 
admire  and  to  sleep  on  ;  but  he  is  sent  to  quicken  men's 


TE.\IPTATIONS    OF    THE    TIMES.  269 

consciences,  and  to  show  them  to  themselves  as  they  are. 
On  all  subjects,  where  his  convictions  are  in  conflict  with 
prevailing  usages,  he  is  bound  to  speak  frsmkly,  though 
calmly.  Not  that  he  is  to  deal  in  vague  and  passionate 
denunciation,  to  be  a  common  scold,  a  meddlesome  fault- 
finder. But  if  he  thinks  the  manufacture  and  sale  of  ardent 
spirits  a  sin  against  society,  he  is  to  say  so ;  if  he  believes 
that  the  sending  of  rum  and  opium  to  savage  nations,  to 
spread  among  them  the  worst  evils  of  civilization,  is  a  wan- 
ton crime,  he  is  to  declare  his  opinion  ;  if  he  considers  the 
maxims  of  the  business-world  hostile  to  integrity  and  benev- 
olence, he  is  to  expose  their  falseness." 

"  At  the  present  day,  there  is  little  need  of  cautioning 
ministers  against  rashness  in  reproving  evil.  The  danger  is 
all  on  the  other  side.  As  a  class,  they  are  most  slow  to 
give  offence.  Their  temptation  is  to  sacrifice  much  to  win 
the  affections  of  their  people.  Too  many  satisfy  themselves 
with  holding  together  a  congregation  by  amenity  of  man- 
ners, and  by  such  compromises  with  prevalent  evils  as  do 
not  involve  open  criminality.  They  live  by  the  means  of 
those  whose  vices  they  should  reprove,  and  thus  are  con- 
tinually ensnared  by  a  selfish  prudence.  Is  it  said,  that 
they  have  families  dependent  upon  them,  who  may  suffer  for 
their  fidelity  ?  I  answer,  Let  no  minister  marry,  then,  un- 
less the  wife  he  chooses  have  such  a  spirit  of  martyrdom  as 
♦vould  make  her  prefer  to  be  stinted  in  daily  bread  rather  than 
eee  her  husband  sacrifice  one  jot  or  tittle  of  his  moral  inde- 
pendence. Is  it  said,  that  congregations  would  be  broken 
up  by  perfect  freedom  in  the  ministers  ?  Better  far  would 
it  be  to  preach  to  empty  pews,  or  in  the  meanest  halls,  and 
there  to  be  a  fearless,  disinterested  witness  to  the  truth,  than 
to  hold  forth  to  crowds  in  gorgeous  cathedrals,  honored  and 
courted,  but  not  daring  to  speak  one's  honest  convictions, 
and  awed  by  the  world." 

"  How  shall  the  minister  quicken  and  preserve  a  heavenly 
23* 


270  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

tone  of  spirit  ?  Let  him  cherish  an  habitual  consciousnes3 
of  God's  infinitely  tender,  paternal  love  for  every  human 
being,  and  of  the  infinite  capacity  of  goodness  in  all  spirits. 
Let  him  accustom  himself  to  regard  each  individual  with 
whom  he  holds  intercourse  as  made  and  designed  for 
wisdom,  love,  power,  happiness,  without  limits.  Let  him 
learn  to  regard  all  men  as  now  related  to  God  and  goou 
spirits,  and  as  welcomed  to  an  endless  participation  in  the 
ever-unfolding,  infinitely  benevolent  designs  of  God.  Let 
him  joyfully  and  unreservedly  consecrate  himself  to  this 
work  of  elevating  souls,  concentrate  his  whole  being  upon 
it,  forget  comparatively  every  thing  but  this  divine  end  of 
human  development,  esteem  all  power  and  opportunity  as 
of  worth  in  proportion  as  they  are  applicable  to  this  great 
purpose,  and  resolve  to  live  and  die  in  advancing  GocVs 
plan  of  spirilual  perfection.  Let  him  not  permit  himself 
to  be  distracted  by  litde  interests,  inconveniences,  engage- 
ments, but  secure  such  outward  accommodations  as  favor 
health,  and  think  no  more  of  circumstances  ;  thus  will  he 
avoid  frittering  away  his  strength  in  petty  details,  and  keep 
his  soul  whole  for  great  objects.  Let  him  abstain  from 
living  in  his  own  past  deeds,  and  waste  no  energy  of 
thought  or  will  in  self-complacent  recollections  or  idle  re- 
grets, but  use  success,  praise,  reputation,  position,  as  a 
ground  of  nobler  efforts  and  larger  hopes,  as  an  incentive 
and  encouragement  to  wider  usefulness.  Let  him  be  wise 
in  labor,  so  as  not  to  exhaust  the  elastic  force  of  mind  and 
thought,  and  be  habitually  calm,  so  as  to  maintain  that  clear- 
ness of  purpose  on  which  enduring  strength  of  will  depends. 
Let  him  put  all  liis  powers  in  tunc,  and  make  his  whole  life 
harmonious  by  inward  unity.  Above  all,  let  him  constant- 
ly look  up  to  God  as  the  all-communicating  Father,  from 
whom  pour  down  into  the  faithful  soul  unfailing  streams  of 
spiritual  life." 


CENTRAL  TRUTHS.  271 

CENTRAL  TRUTHS  TO  BE  TAUGHT. THE  TRUE  REVIVAL. 

"  Are  there  not  seasons  of  spring  in  the  moral  world,  and 
is  not  the  present  age  one  of  them  ?  Is  not  a  new  power 
now  making  itself  felt  ?  Are  we  not  all  asleep  ?  Is  there 
any  just  sensibility  to  our  connection  with  God  and  the  eter- 
nal world  ?  Is  it  an  improvement  of  the  existing  forms  of 
religion  which  is  wanted,  or  a  new  form  of  religion  at  once 
more  intimate  and  more  universal  ?  Is  a  nobler  manifesta- 
tion of  religion  to  be  given,  independent  of  and  supericr 
to  preceding  modes  of  manifesting  it,  and  comprehending 
and  reconciling  all  ?  Can  a  nobler  life  be  revealed  to  men, 
which  they  will  feel  to  be  nobler,  as  placed  in  contrast  with 
present  evils  ?  Can  a  new  condition  of  society  be  pre- 
sented in  a  spirit  raised  above  actual  degradations,  so 
that  the  brightness  of  the  Divine  Life  may  be  seen  to  dim 
all. other  mterests,  and  draw  to  itself  the  entire  energy  of 
human  thought  and  feeling  ?  " 

"  Is  God  seen  to  be  a  Parent  ?  Is  not  the  intercourse 
with  him  too  formal  ?  Do  we  not  need  an  exhibition  of  his 
near  relations  to  us,  which  will  awaken  a  more  filial,  rejoic- 
ing, confiding  piety  ?  Do  we  believe  that  he  loves  us,  loves 
us  infinitely^  that  a  stream  of  goodness  is  for  ever  flowing 
down  upon  us,  that  he  delights  in  forgiving,  that  he  joyfully 
welcomes  his  returning  children  ?  Is  this  the  great  view 
to  be  presented,  that  God  is  desirous  to  impart  himself  to 
us,  to  unite  us  to  him  in  perfect  love  ?  Any  view  of  God, 
of  which  love  is  not  the  centre,  is  injurious  to  the  soul  wnich 
receives  it.  Is  not  religion  to  be  unfolded  as  a  profound, 
serene  love  of  a  Moral  Parent,  who  calls  us  to  immortal 
glory,  who  by  duty  is  guiding  us  to  a  nearer  perception  of  his 
own  glory,  to  resemblance  to  himself,  to  communion  with 
him  for  ever  ?  Is  not  this  faith  in  the  perfect  love  of  God 
the  grand,  commanding,  central  view  which  is  to  fill  the 
thoughts,  to  take  strong  hold  on  the  will,  to  excite  a  calm, 
full,  concentrated  enthusiasm  ?  " 


272  THE    MINISTItY    .\.\D    I.ITEKATURE. 

"  Are  we  not  to  aim  chiefly  at  calling  forth  in  men  a 
consciousness  of  their  capacity  for  embracing  God  and  the 
universe  in  a  pure  love,  —  a  love  unfolding  without  limit 
in  strength  and  vastness  ?  Is  not  this  perfection  of  soul  to 
be  brought  before  men  as  a  great  reality  ?  Are  they  not 
to  be  taught  to  see  the  germs  of  it  in  the  common  atfections 
which  move  them,  in  the  moral  principle,  and,  above  all, 
in  their  capacity  of  communion  with  the  Infinite  Fountain 
of  all  goodness,  joy,  beauty,  life  ?  Is  it  not  the  main  design 
of  Christianity  to  give  a  revelation  of  this  love  as  the  end 
of  man,  and  as  God's  ever- fresh  inspiration?  Is  not  the 
world  within  thus  to  be  laid  open,  and  the  spiritual  glory  of 
which  all  outward  splendor  is  the  faint  emblem  made  clear, 
until  men  are  taught  to  feel  a  divine  joy  in  their  own  na- 
ture ?  Should  not  the  great  aim  be  to  awaken  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  greatness  of  the  soul,  and  a  reverence  for 
the  moral  element  in  man  as  an  emanation  from  the  Infinite 
Being,  as  God's  image,  voice,  life  within  us  ?  He  who 
would  promote  this  great  reformation,  for  which  the  re- 
ligious world  is  now  ready,  should  live  with  a  vivid,  absorb- 
ing comprehension  of  the  Divine  Life.  It  should  each  day 
revive  him,  be  a  perpetual  light  to  him,  determine  his  views 
of  society,  and  give  a  tone  to  eveiy  word  and  action." 

"  A  new  voice  is  needed,  a  voice  of  the  deepest,  calmest, 
most  quickening  conviction,  in  which  the  whole  soul  speaks, 
in  which  every  affection  and  faculty  is  concentrated.  The 
divinity  of  goodness  must  burn  within  us, —  must  awaken  all 
our  sensibility,  call  the  whole  being  into  action,  come  forth 
irresistibly  as  from  an  exhaustless,  overflowing  fountain,  — 
must  give  to  the  voice  a  penetrating  power,  and  infuse 
through  the  whole  manner  an  inspiring  animation.  What 
is  this  new  spirit  which  is  striving  to  utter  itself,  to  give  a 
new  manifestation  of  the  soul  in  individuals,  a  new  form  to 
society,  and  to  awaken  enthusiasm  in  overcoming  evil  ? 
The  knowledge  of  the  Perfect  God  as  Infinite  Goodness, 


DIVINE    BENIGNITY.  273 

Infinive  Energj  of  Good-Will,  All-commuiiicating,  All-inspir- 
ing Love,  -r-  is  not  this  the  great  truth  ?  Must  not  religion 
be  presented  habitually  as  such  an  exercise  of  the  moral 
power  in  pure,  enlarging  charity  as  will  bring  us  within  the 
near  and  constant  influence  of  Infinite  Goodness,  till  the 
whole  being  is  penetrated  with  this  spirit  of  disinterested- 
ness, and  filled  with  trust,  gratitude,  sympathy,  hope,  joyful 
cooperation  ?  Philanthropy,  a  noble,  victorious  benevo- 
lence, like  that  of  Christ,  is  to  be  the  great  end,  —  not  a 
precise,  defined  virtue,  but  an  expansive,  ever-enlarging 
action  of  goodness.  And  this  love  must  not  be  vague,  ab- 
stract, spiritual  merely,  but  wise,  practical,  specific,  effi- 
cient, just,  tender,  vigorous,  in  all  relations,  —  of  home,  of 
friendship,  of  society  at  large,  of  patriotism,  of  human- 
ity." 

"  A  profound  conviction  of  God's  moral  purposes  to  men, 
of  his  design  to  exalt  the  soul  infinitely,  must  kindle  a  pur- 
pose in  us  vast  and  enduring  as  his  own,  give  us  faith  in 
the  possibility  of  redeeming  mankind,  give  us  a  respect  for 
every  individual,  make  us  feel  our  unity  with  all.  God 
must  be  regarded  as  enjoining  this  unlimited  love,  as  calling 
us  to  universal  brotherhood,  and  forbidding  all  that  sepa- 
rates us  from  our  kind.  He  is  to  be  looked  up  to  as  the 
ever-quickening  source  of  life  to  all  men,  as  the  all-embrac- 
ing, all-communicating  spiritual  Father  of  every  human  be- 
ing. Love  is  to  be  cherished  as  the  fountain  of  spiritual 
life  within  us  ;  we  are  to  feel  an  adoring,  grateful  sympathy 
with  the  Divine  Love,  which  will  prompt  us  to  breathe  it  in, 
and  to  be  renewed  by  its  power  in  the  image  of  God.  Man 
is  to  be  loved  as  God's  child,  as  God's  temple,  as  the  being 
in  whom  God  reveals  himself,  and  presents  himself  to  us  for 
our  love.  A  confidence  in  the  Divine  benignity  is  to  show 
itself  in  our  unfaltering  efforts  to  lift  up  the  race,  to  awaken 
all  that  is  generous  and  noble  in  the  soul,  to  remove  ob- 
structions to  human  elevation,  to  breathe  into  all  men  a  con- 


274  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

Bciousness  of  their  greatness  and  a  reverence  for  their  fel- 
lows.    We  are  to  be  animated  with  this  new  life  of  love, 

—  of  love  for  man  as  man^  —  a  love  which  embraces  all 
of  every  rank  and  character,  —  which  forgets  divisions  and 
outward  distinctions,  —  breaks  down  the  old  partition  walls, 

—  sees  a  divine  spark  in  every  intelligence,  —  longs  to  re- 
dress the  existing  inequalities  of  society,  to  elevate  all  con- 
ditions of  men  to  true  dignity,  to  use  wealth  only  as  a  means 
of  extensive  union,  not  of  separation,  —  which  substitutes 
generous  motives  for  force, —  which  sees  nothing  degrading 
in  labor,  but  honors  all  useful  occupation,  —  which  every- 
where is  conscious  of  the  just  claims  and  rights  of  all,  re- 
sisting the  idolatry  of  the  ^ew,  ceasing  to  worship  the  great, 
calling  upon  the  mighty  to  save,  not  crush  the  weak, 
from  reverence  for  our  common  nature, —  and  which,  in  a 
word,  recognizes  the  infinite  worth  of  every  human  spirit. 
This  is  the  true  spirit  for  the  minister,  a  love  like  that  of 
Jesus  on  the  cross,  which  sacrifices  all  to  the  well-being  of 
man,  and  the  glory  and  infinite  designs  of  God." 

"To  raise  up  the  fallen  world,  the  minister  needs  some 
sublime  objects  which  can  fire  the  imagination,  stir  the 
whole  souls  of  men,  and  waken  Ihem  from  their  selfishness, 

—  some  principles  suited  to  human  nature,  —  some  truths 
fitted  to  work  penetratingly,  with  mighty  renewing  power. 
How  much  is  lost  by  adulterating  the  truth,  by  bringing  it 
down  to  the  condition  of  existing  society !  Christ  stood 
alone.  True  Christianity  still  stands  in  contrast  with  the 
spirit  of  the  world.  Its  ministers  should  be  more  uncom- 
promising, searching,  pungent  in  their  preaching.  Men 
need  something  which  will  take  a  strong  hold  of  them,  rouae 
them  up  to  earnest,  resolute  action  on  themselves.  What 
are  these  great  truths,  principles,  objects .''  What  are  the 
central  truths  to  be  taught  .•'  Is  not  the  character  of  God 
as  a  Moral  Parent,  an  Infinite  Fulness  and  Fountain  of 
Perfection,  —  who   gives  moral   powers  to  his  children  for 


GREATNESS    OF    MAn's    DESTINY.  275 

infinite  development,  who  desires  to  communicate  his  own 
life,  who  has  no  other  end  in  creation,  who  is  ^always  pres- 
ent with  infinite,  parental  interest  in  the  soul,  —  is  not  this 
the  truth  of  truths  which  is  to  quicken  us,  and  to  reveal  the 
ineffably  glorious  end  within  our  reach  ?  Cannot  this  spir- 
itual perfection,  in  all  its  excellence,  beauty,  power,  be 
made  a  visible  reality  to  men,  and  be  set  forth  to  them  as 
the  supreme  good,  the  condition  of  all  other  good,  —  as  that 
in  which  all  other  good  is  contained,  and,  in  giving  which, 
God  gives  all  things?  " 

"  What  a  quickening  thought  is  it,  what  a  ground  of  infi- 
nite hope,  that  God  has  given  us  a  nature  like  his  own  !  —  that 
the  whole  universe  is  formed  as  a  field  for  its  nutriment  and 
growth  !  —  that  all  our  relations  with  nature,  society,  family, 
are  designed  to  call  out  this  holy  love  !  Should  not  heaven 
be  presented  as  essentially  consisting  in  goodness,  in  a 
joyful  communion  with  God,  with  good  spirits,  with  the  uni- 
verse, by  an  all-pervading  love  ?  Cannot  the  practical 
errors,  means,  and  processes  of  spiritual  growth  be  ex- 
plained ?  Moral  perfection,  of  which  all  particular  virtues  are 
the  germs,  —  is  not  this  the  grand  thought  which  shows  the 
true  glory  of  the  soul,  which  reveals  to  us  the  infinite  love  of 
God  and  the  immensity  of  his  designs  of  benevolence,  which 
gives  such  profound  and  awful  interest  to  our  relations  with 
him  ?  God's  infinity,  —  does  it  not  make  all  things  possi- 
ble to  us  ?  —  does  it  not  open  before  us  an  infinite  future  of 
progress  ?  —  does  it  not  offer  to  us  a  Being  of  exhaustless 
love,  with  whom  we  may  commune  more  intimately  for  ever  ? 
What  will  he  not  be  to  us,  if  we  heartily  adopt  and  obey  his 
law  ?  What  will  he  not  communicate  from  his  fulness  to 
those  who  use  their  moral  power  to  avail  themselves  of  his 
omnipotence  ? " 

"  The  distinguishing  gloi-y  of  Christ's  character  is  to  be 
brought  out  and  unfolded  with  new  power.  Is  he  viewed 
enough  as  a  whole  ?     Is  it  seen  that  his  virtue  was  a  perfect. 


276  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITKRATURE. 

harmonious  one  ?  The  blessedness  of  the  spirit  of  Christ,  as 
a  universal  love  which  can  choose,  at  all  sacrifices,  the  high- 
est good,  and  give  self  wholly  up  in  disinterested  service,  — 
this  is  to  be  shown  in  all  its  quickening  reality  ;  it  is  to  be 
exhibited  as  God's  own  spirit,  the  inspiration  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  the  principle  of  heavenly  life,  the  bond  of  vital  union 
•with  the  Divine  Being,  the  germ  of  infinite  and  eternal 
virtue.  God -is  the  source,  object,  model,  of  this  perfect 
love.  His  infinite  excellence  gives  infinite  glory  to  the  soul 
which  is  fixed  on  him  as  its  object.  This  goodness  is  his 
delight ;  he  nourishes  it  in  us,  renews  it  from  himself,  makes 
it  one  with  him.  The  true  good,  to  which  the  soul  should 
turn,  is  moral  likeness  to  God,  being  perfect  as  he  is  perfect. 
This  union  with  him,  this  devotion  to  the  cause  of  spreading 
his  kingdom  through  the  universe,  is  the  spirit  of  Christ. 
This  makes  Christ's  character  the  image  of  the  Infinite 
Beauty.  This  is  to  be  taught  as  the  only  true  life.  Christ 
taught  an  abandonment  of  all  objects  which  men  delight  in, 
from  a  profound  and  earnest  aspiration  after  perfect  good- 
ness. Shall  the  ministers  of  Christ  make  compromises  with 
lower  principles  ?  Shall  they  bring  Christianity  down  to  the 
standard  of  the  world  ?  " 

"  Nothing  will  be  done  by  the  minister  till  he  arouses 
in  men  a  fervent  energy  of  the  moral  principle.  Decency, 
prudence,  self-interest,  regard  to  comfort,  respectability,  are 
nothing.  Men  must  be  made  to  thirst  for  perfect  goodness, 
to  see  its  eternal  beauty,  to  long  for  it  with  the  full  force  of 
their  spiritual  affections.  Will  not  the  heart  respond  to  the 
claims  of  God  and  Christ  and  celestial  virtue,  when  plainly 
urged  ?  Is  there  not  an  inward  tendency  of  our  spiritual 
being  to  moral  perfection,  which  insures  a  joyful  acquies- 
cence in  the  highest  appeals  ?  May  not  men  be  made  to  see 
the  rudiments  of  these  heavenly  capacities  in  themselves,  — 
to  feel  that  they  have  experienced  a  peculiar  joy  in  love,  ■^- 
thut  they  have  gained  new  life  by  sacrifices  to  uprightness  i 


TRUE    PREACHING.  277 

Unbounded  progress  in  virtue,  m  love,  light,  power,  —  all- 
embracing  philanthropy,  —  the  absorption  of  SQjUlshness  in 
univereal  good-will,  —  victory  over  debasing  influences,  — 
spiritual  liberation  from  all  low  impulses,  —  the  ever-near 
influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  —  the  divine  love  manifested 
in  Christ,  —  the  almighty  design  of  God  to  redeem  men 
from  all  iniquity,  —  the  prospect  of  immortality,  of  never- 
ending  approach  to  God,  of  ever-growing  participation  in  his 
life,  and  ever-widening  cooperation  with  his  beneficence, — 
these  are  the  great  truths  which  come  home  with  irresisti- 
ble power  to  the  divine  principle  within  us.  Ought  any 
views  but  these  to  be  presented  ?  He  alone  can  speak  of 
sin  as  an  infinite  evil,  and  concentrate  against  it  the  whole 
energy  of  the  soul's  aversion,  dread,  displeasure,  who  has 
risen  into  the  Divine  light,  who  has  faith  in  the  unlimited  ca- 
pacities of  our  spiritual  nature,  who  perceives  the  reality  of 
heavenly  goodness,  who  knows  that  by  love  man  has  affinity 
to  God." 

TRUE    PREACHING. 

"  I  can  conceive  of  a  style  of  preaching  seldom  heard  as 
yet.  It  will  spring  from  the  conviction  of  a  higher  state  of 
humanity  as  possible  now,  and  must  come  from  the  souls  of 
teachers  who  have  reached  to  that  new  state  themselves. 
Would  not  a  preacher,  really  inspired  with  the  grandeur 
of  Christian  virtue,  come  into  so  vivifying  a  union  with  the 
minds  of  his  hearers  as  to  raise  them  to  an  intensity  of  in- 
tellectual and  moral  action  of  which  they  were  incapable 
before  ?  In  proportion  as  the  minister  attains  to  this  eleva- 
tion, he  will  speak  with  plainness  and  without  evasion. 
There  is  a  certain  fastidious  way  of  treating  subjects,  as  it 
they  would  be  tarnished  by  direct  speech,  which  destroys 
the  power  of  preachers.  The  minister  has  other  work  than 
to  amuse  men.  Grace,  harmony,  energy,  should  be  blended 
and  merged  in  the  unity  of  the  sublime  end  to  which  they 
VOL.   II.  24 


278  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATtJRE. 

all  conspire.  No  poetical,  imaginative  air  should  color  his 
discourse  ;  but  divine  goodness  should  be  spoken  of  as  the 
great  practical  reality.  He  must  arouse  the  conscience  to  its 
solemn  claims ;  he  must  waken  the  will  to  the  earnest  and 
resolute  pursuit  of  it.  He  should  speak  with  urgency, — 
not  that  urgency  which  belongs  to  personal  and  narrow  in- 
terests, but  that  which  befits  a  mind  exalted  by  the  living 
knowledge  of  an  infinite  good." 

"  We  ought  to  stand  up  before  men,  so  filled  with  the 
greatness  and  beneficence  of  our  function,  as  to  be  wholly 
unconscious  of  self,  and  utterly  superior  to  frowns  or  fa- 
vor,—  strong,  serene,  free,  inspired.  For  true  eloquence 
there  is  but  one  preparation  ;  it  is  to  make  the  thought  of 
spiritual  perfection,  of  God's  life  within  the  soul,  real  to  our- 
selves by  habitual  experience.  We  need  calm,  collected, 
fearless  minds,  elevated  by  the  contemplation  of  spiritual 
truth,  and  brought  near  to  men  by  a  most  earnest  feeling  of 
brotherhood.  O  the  unspeakable  littleness  of  a  soul  which, 
intrusted  with  Christianity,  speaking  in  God's  name  to  im- 
mortal beings,  with  infinite  excitements  to  the  most  enlarged 
and  fervent  love,  sinks  down  into  narrow  self-regard,  and  is 
chiefly  solicitous  of  its  own  honor  !  The  pulpit  should  be  to 
the  minister  an  altar  upon  which  he  may  offer  himself  up 
as  a  living  sacrifice,  pure,  spotless." 

"  How  can  a  man  preacli  as  he  should,  until  he  sees  in 
his  fellow-creatures  an  infinite  moral  capacity  ?  A  single 
sentence  from  the  lips  of  one  who  has  faith  in  humanity  is 
worth  volumes  of  ordinary  sermons.  What  sympathy  should 
the  minister  feel  with  the  crushed,  imprisoned,  fallen  spirits 
of  men  !  He  should  comprehend  what  a  depth  he  looks  into, 
when  he  looks  into  a  soul,  of  which  endless  space  is  but  a 
faint  emblem.  The  common  tone  of  our  minds  is  in  utter 
contradiction  to  our  professed  faith  as  Christians.  We  Jiave 
no  faith  in  the  spiritual  in  ourselves  and  in  others,  —  in 
the  unspeakable  grandeur  of  a   human  being.     Our  daily 


TRUE    PREACHING.  279 

skepticism  makes  us  weak  preachers.  We  are  to  accustom 
ourselves  to  see  infinite  heights  and  depths  in  man.  The 
preacher  should  have  such  a  conviction  of  the  divinity  of 
Christian  goodness,  such  a  faith  in  love  as  a  participation  of 
the  Divine  Life,  as  to  have  the  whole  energy  of  his  being 
concentrated  in  an  inextinguishable  thirst  for  the  Holy  Spirit 
in  himself,  an  irrepressible  longing  to  awaken  a  like  aspira- 
tion in  his  fellow-men." 

"  The  minister  is  to  speak  with  the  same  convicl Jon  of 
spiritual  life  that  filled  Jesus  Christ.  He  is  to  be  truly  an  in- 
spired, Heaven-ordained  prophet.  What  sanctity,  what  sep- 
aration from  selfish  views,  what  entire  dedication  of  his  whole 
being  to  the  recovery,  freedom,  growth,  perfection  of  the  im- 
mortal spirit  should  characterize  him  !  His  whole  life  should 
be  a  discipline  of  purification  from  earthly  influences.  He 
should  be  a  perpetual  testimony  of  godlike  goodness  to  the 
world  which  he  would  raise.  He  should  so  live,  that  the 
Spu'it  may  shine  out  through  him,  and  quicken  all  around 
him.  What  an  office,  —  to  awaken  the  divine  in  man  !  The 
glorious  form  of  humanity  set  before  us  in  Christ  should  be  . 
ever  before  the  minister.  The  preacher  can  never  preach  as 
he  ought,  never  write  or  speak  with  the  power  belonging  to 
his  office,  unless  he  feels  ever  present  the  deep  conviction 
of  union  with  God  and  Christ  and  all  good  spirits.  He  is 
not  alone.  The  mightiest  energies  in  the  universe  are  co- 
operating with  him.  He  must  blend  himself  with  God's 
grand  reconciling  agencies.  The  Roman,  the  Spartan,  could 
merge  his  own  individual  good  in  the  national  well-being. 
In  a  far  higher  tone  of  feeling,  the  minister  should  enter 
into,  and  be  absorbed  by,  the  Spiritual  Community  of  which 
God  is  the  Life." 

The  fervent  enthusiasm  with  whicli  Dr.  Channing  re- 
garded the  privileges  and  responsibilities  of  his  profes- 
sion, and  his  vivid  sense  of  the  grand  tendencies  of  the 


280  THE    BIINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

age  towards  an  embodiment  in  social  life  of  the  spirit  of 
love,  made  him  most  anxiously  desire  to  see  a  body  of 
young  men  entering  the  ministry  who  could  rise  above 
sectarian  enthralments  and  worldly  hindrances  and  give 
themselves  up  unreservedly  to  the  work  of  advancing  a 
revival  of  practical  goodness.  This  state  of  mind  ap- 
pears in  all  his  printed  sermons  of  this  period,*  as  well  as 
m  his  private  papers,  from  which  we  select  three. 

The  first  is  a  letter  to  Henry  Ware,  Jun.,  who  had  just 
been  appointed  Professor  of  Pastoral  Care  in  the  Cam- 
bridge Divinity  School,  and  was  about  entering  upon  the 
office  in  which,  for  so  many  years,  he  opened  his  pure 
and  earnest  spirit  as  a  fountain  of  living  waters  for  his 
younger  brethren.  Humble  as  he  was  wise,  Mr.  Ware 
had  sought  counsel  from  Dr.  Channing  as  to  the  best 
modes  of  performing  his  duties,  and  the  following  is  the 
reply  to  his  letter  :  — 

"  St.  Croix,  Janvarxj  29,  1831 . 

"My  dear  Sir,  —  I  thank  you  for  your  letter.  I  have 
received  few  which  have  given  me  greater  pleasure.  To 
know  that  you  are  getting  strength  for  your  great  work  is 
almost  as  gratifying  to  me  as  to  your  own  family.  I  have 
sympathized  with  you  in  your  sufferings,  and  would  share 
your  gratitude  in  your  present  bright  prospects. 

"  I  will  begin  with  answering  the  end  of  your  letter.  You 
ask  my  views  respecting  your  work.  The  discourse  which 
you  have  thought  fit  to  publish  from  my  volume  shows  you 
the  spirit  which,  as  I  think,  should  characterize  the  institu 
lion.  I  wish  the  young  men  to  be  more  and  more  imbued 
with  the  '  spirit  of  truth,'  the  supreme  love  of  truth,  the 
least  understood,  least  honored,  least  cherished  of  the  virtues 
and  yet  the  cardinal  virtue  of  a  religious  teacher.     It  is  no* 

•  Works,  Vol.  Ill,  pp.  137,  209,  229,  259. 


SPIRIT    OF    MARTYRDOM.  281 

hard  to  stir  up  young  men  to  seek  distinction  by  paradoxes 
and  startling  novelties ;  but  to  inspire  that  love  of  truth 
which  makes  the  young  fear  their  own  errors  as  much  as 
those  of  others,  opens  the  mind  to  every  new  ray  of  light, 
and  quickens  it  to  improvement  in  all  known  virtue,  as  the 
best  preparation  for  knowing  higher, —  this  is  no  easy  task. 
And  yet,  until  a  new  thirst  for  truth,  such,  I  fear,  as  is  not 
now  felt,  takes  possession  of  some  gifted  minds,  we  shall 
make  little  progress.  I  apprehend  that  there  is  but  one  way 
of  putting  an  end  to  our  present  dissensions  ;  and  that  is,  not 
the  triumph  of  any  existing  system  over  all  others,  but  the 
acquisition  of  something  better  than  the  best  we  now  have. 
The  way  to  reconcile  men  who  are  quarrelling  in  a  fog  is, 
to  let  in  some  new  and  brighter  liifht.  It  seems  to  me  that 
■we  are  fighting  now  in  a  low,  misty  valley.  A  man  who 
should  gain  some  elevated  position,  overlooking  our  imag- 
ined heights  of  thought,  and  who  would  lead  us  after  him, 
would  set  us  all  right  in  a  short  time. 

"  Another  idea  expressed  in  my  discourse  impresses  me 
more ;  and  that  is,  the  importance  of  a  spirit  of  martyrdom. 
No  man  is  fitted  to  preach  or  promote  Christianity  who  is  not 
fitted  to  die  for  it.  He,  in  whom  the  pure  and  sublime  vir- 
tue of  Christianity  has  not  wrought  the  conviction  of  its  own 
unrivalled  worth  and  glory,  so  that  he  can  '  count  all  things 
loss  for  it,'  cannot  go  forth  with  the  power  which  is  neces- 
sary for  one  who  is  to  be  its  minister  in  this  crooked  and 
perverse  generation. 

"  I  think,  in  my  discourse,  that  I  did  not  attach  sufficient 
importance  to  the  spirit  of  humility.  I  am  satisfied  that 
when  Jesus  said,  'He  that  shall  humble  himself  as  a  little 
child,  the  same  is  greatest  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven,'  he 
meant  by  greatness  singular  efficiency  and  eminence  in 
promoting  his  religion.  By  humility,  in  this  place,  we  are 
to  understand  the  triumph  of  love  over  the  passion  for  supe- 
iority,  and  a  deep  sympathy  with  the  weakest  and  lowest 
24* 


282  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

of  our  brethren.  All  our  institutions,  domestic,  political,  and 
religious,  are  feeding  the  passion  for  distinction  and  superi- 
ority ;  and  yet  nothing,  I  believe,  is  so  hostile  to  the  power 
which  a  minister  should  covet  above  all  things,  —  the  power 
of  approaching  the  souls  of  men,  and  of  communicating  to 
them  what  is  best  in  his  own  soul.  If  I  could,  I  would  blot 
out  from  the  minds  of  our  young  men  the  ideas  of  distinc- 
lon  and  superiority.  I  would  have  them  venerate  the  Divine 
image  in  their  poorest  fellow-creatures  too  much  to  think  of 
making  them  subservient  to  their  own  glory.  I  would  have 
them  specially  concerned  for  the  poor,  ignorant,  and  suffer- 
ing ;  and,  for  this  end,  I  wish  they  would  work  with  Dr. 
Tuckerman  in  the  ministry  at  large. 

"  In  your  discourse  at  the  inauguration,  I  understand  you 
express  a  desire  to  imbue  the  theological  students  with  a  pro- 
fessional spirit,  and  speak  of  the  influence  their  profession 
gives  them.  I  fear  I  differ  from  you.  The  separation  of 
the  ministry  from  their  brethren  has  wrought  incalculable 
mischief.  The  ideas  of  any  peculiar  sanctity  belonging  to 
them,  of  their  enjoying  a  peculiar  nearness  to,  or  influence 
with,  God,  or  of  their  obligation  to  any  peculiar  virtues,  are 
false,  and  injure  alike  the  teacher  and  the  taught.  Every 
Christian  is  a  teacher  ;  and,  under  Christianity,  nothing  but 
personal  sanctity  should  win  respect. 

"  You  did  not  name  the  particular  points  on  which  you 
wished  my  views.  If  my  little  light  can  be  useful  to  you  in 
any  respect,  I  will  communicate  it  most  cheerfully." 

The  second  is  a  brief  essay  on  Public  Prayer,  which 
Dr.  Channing  wrote  out,  at  Mr.  Ware's  request,  for  the 
use  of  the  students  in  the  Divinity  School. 

"  Public  prayer  answers  its  end  in  proportion  as  it  makes 
the  hearer  pray.  To  excite  the  spirit  of  prayer  in  the  con- 
gregation is  the  test  of  true  public  devotion. 


PUBLIC    PRAYER. 


283 


"  Player  is  the  expression  of  deep  want  to  a  Being  of  In- 
finite Fulness  and  Goodness. 

"  The  spirit  of  prayer,  therefore,  consists  iii'consciousness 
of  deep  want,  and  in  faith  in  God's  infinite  power  and  wil- 
lingncss  to  supply. 

"  The  minister,  to  excite  this  spirit  in  others,  must  possess 
it  himself,  that  is,  must  cherish  this  consciousness  and  this 
faith. 

"  The  want  which  prayer  breathes  is  spiritual,  or  the  want 
of  spiritual  life,  of  moral  perfection,  of  godlike  love,  of  re- 
demption from  moral  evil,  of  spotless  purity,  of  union  with 
God,  of  universal  charity,  &c. 

"  No  minister  can  pray  aright  in  whom  this  want  is  not 
deeply  felt.  It  should  be  intense,  —  the  yearning  of  his  soul. 
To  excite  it,  his  mind  should  turn  often  to  its  object,  —  that 
is,  to  moral  perfection,  as  manifested  in  God,  in  Christ,  in 
great  and  holy  men,  —  to  virtue,  in  its  most  lovely  and  inspir- 
ing forms,  to  the  workings  of  the  spiritual  life  in  himself  and 
others,  —  and  to  all  the  motives  by  which  moral  excellence 
will  become  to  him  the  supreme  good,  absorbing  all  others. 

"  Another  means  of  exciting  this  consciousness  is  this. 
When  the  bright  idea  of  moral.  Christian  excellence  is  awak- 
ening strong  aspiration,  he  should  look  into  himself  and  see 
his  deep  deficiency,  and  learn  the  greatness  of  his  want,  the 
vastness  of  the  change  required  to  realize  his  conception  of 
excellence. 

"  But  faith  is  as  needful  as  consciousness  of  want ;  and  to 
cherish  this,  nothing  is  so  important  as  to  view  God  in  the 
peculiar  light  in  which  he  is  placed  by  Christianity.  The 
minister  must  habitually  look  up  to  him  as  a  Spnntual 
Father  and  Fountain,  as  having  an  infinite  interest  in  the 
human  soul,  as  desiring  its  recovery  and  perfection,  as  ever 
present  to  give  his  Spirit,  and  as  having  sent  his  Son  to  man- 
ifest him  in  this  character  and  to  awaken  this  faith  in  his 
spiritual  love.     Until  this  view  of  God  takes  the  place  of  all 


284  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

Others,  becomes  habitual,  becomes  associated  with  his  name 
and  every  thought  of  him,  we  shall  not  know  the  full  worth 
and  power  of  Christianity,  and  shall  pray  imperfectly. 
Christianity  has  no  higher  end  than  to  awaken  faith  in  God, 
as  the  Spiritual,  Celestial  Father,  as  the  Friend  of  tile  soul, 
as  desiring  to  impart  to  it  a  celestial  life. 

"  If  these  views  of  prayer  be  just,  then  the  form  of  public 
prayer  is  easily  settled. 

"  It  must  be  simple.  Deep  want  is  ambitious  of  no  orna- 
ments. 

"  It  must  avoid  diffuseness.  Earnest  want  gives  direct- 
ness and  condensation  to  language.  It  must  overflow  with 
natural  expressions  6f  love,  of  Christian  virtue,  and  of  de- 
light in  God  as  its  source.  •  A  spiritual  tone  must  pervade  it. 

"  This  naturalness,  this  expression  of  spiritual  sensibilities 
as  if  they  formed  the  soul's  essence  and  life,  is  the  chief 
power  of  public  prayer." 

The  third  is  an  extract  from  a  letter  to  a  young  friend 
who  had  but  little  sympathy  with  the  ministerial  profes- 
sion as  at  present  conducted.  In  this,  Dr.  Channing 
expresses  a  favorite  view,  which  he  revolved  much  in 
thought,  with  a  growing  conviction  of  its  importance,  and 
which  he  frequently  advocated  in  conversation,  although 
he  was  fully  aware  of  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  such 
an  enterprise,  and  had  neither  strength  nor  time  to  give 
to  it  himself. 

"  I  wish  there  were  a  theological  institution  in  which  young 
men  might  be  educated  who  have  no  taste  for  philosophy, 
and  no  great  respect  for  a  theology  which  must  be  dug  out 
of  lexicons  and  antiquities,  but  who  desire  to  get  into  the 
heart  of  the  religion  and  use  it  for  the  elevation  of  the  peo- 
ple, for  the  redress  of  all  wrong." 


DF.    CHANNKNG    AS    A    PREACHER.  285 

And  now  tliai  we  have  learned,  in  these  various  ways, 
how  high  was  Dr.  Chauning's  estimate  of  his  vocation, 
let  us,  for  a  few  moments,  regard  him  in  th^  active  dis- 
charge of  his  ministerial  duties.  No  description,  indeed, 
can  convey  an  adequate  impression  of  the  peculiar  charm 
of  his  presence  and  manner  as  a  preacher  ;  yet  a  few  out- 
lines may  awaken  grateful  memories  in  those  who  enjoyed 
the  privilege  of  listening  to  him,  and,  by  the  power  of 
sympathy,  may  call  up  some  not  unworthy  image  in  the 
minds  of  others  who  never  breathed  in  his  influence  by 
personal  communion.  In  the  following  familiar  letter  to  a 
friend,  a  frequent  hearer  has  rapidly  sketched  the  effect 
of  his  preaching,  and  therein  justly  delineated  one  source 
of  its  power,  —  its  pervading  humanity.  Without  a  trace 
of  sentimentalism,  Dr.  Channing  overflowed  with  genuine 
feeling,  which  was  all  the  more  affecting  because  he 
never  purposely  manifested,  but  rather  restrained,  his 
sensibility. 

"  Notwithstanding  Dr.  Channing's  varied  talents,  benignity 
is  the  most  conspicuous  feature  of  his  character.  He  is  fer- 
vently devout ;  and  when  the  saint  extends  his  arms  to  im- 
plore a  blessing  on  his  beloved  people,  we  fancy  his  God 
smiles  upon  his  request,  and  silently  respond,  '  Whom  thou 
blessest  is  blessed.'  He  prays  ;  —  we  hear  the  patriot  inter- 
cede for  his  country,  and  the  philanthropist  for  mankind. 
His  prayers  are  not  preaching.  He  returns  thanks  for  natu- 
ral affection  and  family  attachments,  and  we  see  the  dutiful 
son,  the  affectionate  brother  and  husband.  Before  he  read 
the  apostolic  precept,  '  Rejoice  with  those  who  do  rejoice 
and  weep  with  those  that  weep,'  nature  bad  written  upon  his 
heart  the  law  of  sympathy,  and  be  never  could  mock  the  ear 
of  grief  by  pitiless  recited  consolation.  Does  he  plead  the 
cause  of  the  poor  i     We  shudder  while  '  the  unkind  blast  of 


286  THE    MINISTUY    A^D    LITERATUEE. 

winter  pierces  the  walls  of  the  decayed  cottage,  and  while 
the  half-covered  bed  yields  no  refuge  from  the  cold.'  Hia 
words  reach  the  heart,  when  he  warns  us  not  to  repeat 
'  Our  Father  who  art  in  heaven,'  unless  we  are  really  breth- 
ren to  the  poor  and  afflicted.  An  attentive  observer  of  life, 
he  delineates  the  operations  of  the  passions,  and  his  hearers 
whisper,  —  '  Who  has  betrayed  our  secrets  ?  what  penetrat- 
'ng  eye  has  pierced  our  hearts  .?  how  knows  he  so  to  de- 
ssnbe  the  tortures  of  envy,  ambition,  and  shame  } '  He 
shows  us  the  vicious  youth,  '  irritable  and  desponding,'  a 
prey  to  the  agonies  of  remorse,  and  ready  forcibly  to  stop 
the  rapid  pulses  of  his  heart,  and  we  exclaim,  — '  Forbear ! 
forbear  !  the  picture  is  too  faithful ! '  Yet  admiration  at  his 
skill  almost  makes  us  pleased  to  be  pained.  The  passions 
obey  his  voice.     He  excites  at  will  hope,  fear,  and  pity." 

Another  source  of  Dr.  Clianning's  power  was  his 
sincerity.  He  was  transparent  in  simple  earnestness. 
The  personal  limitations  of  the  speaker  and  writer  dis- 
appeared, and  he  seemed  to  be  only  a  pure  medium 
through  which  truth  was  uttering  itself.  The  style  of 
composition,  so  clear,  graceful,  and  strong,  —  the  rich 
variety  of  manner,  so  fervent  and  beautiful,  and  so 
doubly  affecting  from  the  contrast  it  presented  of  phys- 
ical infirmity  with  spiritual  force,  were  forgotten,  and 
the  hearer  found  himself  translated  to  the  mount  of  vis- 
ion upon  which  the  proj)het  was  standing  face  to  Hice 
with  heaven  and  Deity.  He  was  wholly  unartificial,  un- 
conscious, and  absorbed  in  his  subject.  He  stood  awed, 
yet  animated,  between  God  above  and  his  listening 
brethren.  _  "  On  no  account,"  he  once  said  to  a  young 
brother  in  the  ministry,  "on  no  account,  in  your  public 
services,  try  to  exhibit  by  look  or  tone  any  emotion  which 
you  do  not  feel.      If  you  feel  coldly,  appear  so.      The 


POSITION    OF    THE    PUEACIIER.  2S"3 

sermon  may  be  lost,  but  your  own  truthfulness  will  be 
preserved."  By  this  rule  he  invariably  governed  him- 
self. The  effect  which  he  produced  wes  deep  and 
indelible,  because  his  eloquence  was  so  lost  sight  of 
and  swallowed  up  in  the  glory  of  his  theme. 

And  this  leads  us  to  a  recognition  of  the  chief  source 
of  his  power,  which  we  have  already  noticed  as  char- 
acterizing his  youth,  —  his  living  sense  of  spiritual  re- 
alities. The  pulpit  was  to  him  the  grandest  position 
upon  earth,  and  he  entered  it  with  a  most  exalting,  yet 
disinterested,  sense  of  its  dignified  and  solemn  trusts. 
In  standing  up  before  a  congregation  as  a  minister  of 
God,  he  was  conscious  that  he  assumed  responsibilities 
as  much  vaster  than  those  of  the  judge  upon  the  bench, 
of  the  legislator  in  the  halls  of  council,  of  the  executive 
officer  upon  his  seat  of  power,  as  conscience  is  higher 
than  intellect,  common  social  affection,  or  natural  de- 
sires. He  voluntarily  became  a  mediator  between  the 
Infinite  Being  and  finite  spirits.  It  has  been  well  said, 
—  "  There  was  no  power  of  mind,  however  lofty,  tha 
his  function  did  not  to  him  appear  to  bring  into  urgen 
requisition.  Preaching  never  seemed  to  him  for  an  in- 
stant the  discharge  of  a  mere  professional  duty,  the  ful- 
filment of  a  formal  task.  It  tvas  the  great  action  of  his 
life.  It  was  the  greatest  action  that  could  be  demanded 
of  any  hfe.  He  felt  that  never  Demosthenes  nor 
Cicero,  that  never  Burke  nor  Chatham,  had  a  greater 
work  to  do  than  he  had  every  Sunday.  He  poured 
into  his  office  his  whole  mind  and  heart.  The  prepa- 
ration for  it  was  a  work  of  consecrated  genius  ;  it  was  as 
if  every   week  he  had  made  a  poem  or  an  oration."  * 

"  Dr.  Dewey's  Discourse  on  the  Character  and  Writings  of  Chan- 
ging, pp.  7,  8. 


288  THE    MINISTRY    A.\D    LITERATURE. 

It  was  more  ;  for  he  consiclered  the  sermon,  in  our  day, 
as  the  highest  possible  mode  of  expression,  combining 
oration,  poetry,  and  prophecy  in  one. 

We  cannot  better  sum  up  these  general  views  ol 
Dr.  Channing  as  a  preacher,  than  by  continuing  our 
extracts  from  the  notice  just  quoted.  "  No  preacher, 
perhaps,  had  ever  at  command  the  stores  of  a  richer 
imagination.  But  all  was  sober,  in  his  administration 
of  religion.  To  utter  the  truth,  the  naked  truth,  was 
his  highest  aim  and  ambition.  The  effect  he  was  will- 
ing to  leave  with  God  and  with  the  heart  of  the  hearer. 
He  never  seemed  to  labor  so  much  to  enforce  truth  as 
to  utter  it  ;  but  this  kind  of  utterance,  this  swelling  and 
almost  bursting  of  the  inmost  heart  to  express  itself, 
was  the  most  powerful  enforcement.  There  was  always, 
however,  a  chastening  and  restraining  hand  laid  upon 
the  strong  nature  within  ;  and  this  manner  has  led  some, 
I  believe,  to  deny  to  Channing  the  gift  of  the  highest 
eloquence.  I  know  not  what  they  call  eloquence  ;  but 
\his  restrained  emotion  always  seems  to  me  one  of  its 
most  touching  demonstrations  ;  surely  that  which  reaches 
the  heart  and  unlocks  the  fountain  of  tears  is  its  very 
essence  ;  and  that  which  penetrates  to  the  still  depths 
of  the  conscience,  that  lie  beneath  tears,  is  its  very 
awfulness  and  grandeur.  Such  was  the  eloquence  of 
Channing.  I  shall  never  forget  the  eflect  upon  me  of 
the  first  sermon  I  ever  heard  from  him.  Shall  I  con- 
fess, too,  that,  holding  then  a  faith  somewhat  diflercnt 
from  his,  I  listened  to  him  with  a  certain  degree  of  dis- 
trust and  prejudice  ?  These  barriers,  however,  soon 
gave  way  ;  and  such  was  the  eflect  of  the  simple  and 
heart-touching  truths  and  tones  which  fell  from  his  lij)s, 
hat  it  would  have  been  a  relief  to  me  to  have  bowed  my 


DR.  channing's  preaching.  289 

head  and  to  have  wept  without  restraint,  through  the 
whole  service.  And  yet  I  did  not  weep  ;  for  there  was 
something   in  that  impression  too  solemn  and  deep  for 

tears.     I  claim  perfection  for  nothing  human  ; 

but  certainly  no  preaching  that  I  have  heard  has  come 
so  near,  in  this  respect,  to  the  model  in  my  mind,  —  I 
say  not  irreverently,  the  Great  Model,  —  as  the  preaching 

of  Channing In  most  men's    religious   feeling, 

there  is  something  singularly  general  and  vague  ; 

they  do  not  meditate  their  religion  deeply  in  their  hearts. 
But  it  was  not  so  with  the  remarkable  and  ven- 
erable person  of  whom  I  speak.  His  thoughts  on  this 
theme,  the  deep  and  living  verities  of  his  own  expe- 
rience, had  an  original  impress,  a  marked  individuality, 
a  heart-felt  truth,  and  a  singular  power  to  penetrate  the 
heart.  His  words  had  a  strange  and  heart-stirring  vi- 
tality. Some  living  power  within  seemed  to  preside 
over  the  selection  and  tone  of  every  word,  and  to  give 
it  more  than  the  force  and  weight  of  a  whole  discourse 
from  other  men."  * 

And  now  let  us  go,  on  some  Sunday  morning,  to  the 
meeting-house  in  Federal  Street,  and  hear  for  ourselves 
this  wonderful  preacher.  The  doors  are  crowded  ;  and  as 
we  enter,  we  see  that  there  are  but  few  vacant  seats,  and 
that  the  owners  of  the  pews  are  hospitably  welcoming 
strangers,  whom  the  sexton  is  conducdng  up  the  aisles. 
There  is  no  excitement  in  the  audience,  but  deep,  calm 
expectation.  With  a  somewhat  rapid  and  an  elastic 
step,  a  person  small  in  stature,  thin  and  pale,  and  care- 
fully enveloped,  ascends  the  pulpit  stair.  It  is  he. 
For  a  moment,  he  deliberately  and  benignantly  surveys 

*  Ibid.,  pp.  9-11 
VOL.   II.  25 


290  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

the  large  congregation,  as  if  drinking  in  the  influence  of 
so  many  human  beings  ;  and  then,  laying  aside  his  outer 
garments,  and  putting  on  the  black  silk  gown,  he  selects 
the  hymn  and  passage  from  Scripture,  and,  taking  his 
seat,  awaits  in  quiet  contemplation  the  time  for  com- 
mencing the  service.  What  impresses  us  now,  in  his 
appearance,  is  its  exceeding  delicacy,  refinement,  and 
spiritualized  beauty.  In  the  hollow  eye,  the  sunken 
cheeks,  and  the  deep  lines  around  the  mouth,  the 
chronic  debility  of  many  years  has  left  an  ineffaceable 
impress.  But  on  the  pohshed  brow,  with  its  rounded 
temples,  shadowed  by  one  falling  lock,  and  on  the 
beaming  countenance,  there  hovers  a  serenity  which 
seems  to  brighten  the  whole  head  with  a  halo. 

The  voluntary  on  the  organ  has  been  played,  the 
opening  invocation  has  been  offered  by  the  assistant  in 
the  pulpit,  and  the  choir  and  congregation  have  joined 
in  singing  the  first  hymn  ;  —  and  now  he  rises,  and 
spreading  out  his  arms,  says,  —  "  Let  us  unite  in  prayer." 
What  a  welcome  to  near  communion  with  the  Heavenly 
Father  is  there  in  the  tremulous  tenderness  of  that  invi- 
tation !  This  is  a  solemn  reality,  and  no  formal  rite,  to 
him.  The  Infinite  is  here,  around  all,  within  all.  What 
awful,  yet  confiding  reverence,  what  relying  affection, 
what  profound  gratitude,  what  unutterable  longing,  what 
consciousness  of  intimate  spiritual  relationship,  what 
vast  anticipations  of  progressive  destiny,  inspire  these 
few,  simple,  measured,  most  variously  modulated  words  ! 
How  the  very  peace  of  heaven  seems  to  enter  and  settle 
down  upon  the  hushed  assembly  ! 

There  follows  a  pause  and  perfect  silence  for  a  few 
moments,  which  the  spirit  feels  its  need  of,  that  it  may 
reassume  its  self-control  and   powier  of  active  thought. 


DR.  CHANNIiNo's    PREACHING.  291 

And  now  the  Bible  is  opened  ;  the  chapter  to  be  read 
is  the  fifteenth  of  the  Gospel  of  John.  The  grand  an- 
nouncement is  spoken,  the  majestic  clami  is  made,  — 
"1  am  the  true  vine,  and  my  Father  is  the  husband- 
man." How  often  we  have  heard  these  sentences  !  and 
yet  did  we  ever  before  begin  to  know  tiieir  exhaustless 
wealth  of  meaning  .''  What  dei)th,  volume,  expressive- 
ness in  those  intonations  !  "  That  my  joy  might  remain 
in  you,  and  that  your  joy  might  be  full.''^  Yes,  O 
most  honored  brother  !  now  we  have  gained  a  glimpse 
of  the  rich  hfe  of  thy  godlike  disinterestedness.  We 
shall  be,  indeed,  thy  "/nentZs,"  "  when  we  love  one 
another  as  thou  didst  love  us."  It  is  enough.  No 
mere  rhetorician,  however  trained  and  skilful,  could  have 
made  these  words  so  penetrating  in  pathetic  sweetness, 
so  invigorating  in  unbounded  hope.  The  very  smile 
and  hand  of  the  Saviour  seem  to  have  been  upon  us  in 
blessing  and  power.  Every  emphasis  and  inflection  of 
the  reader  was  fraught  with  his  own  experience.  The 
saying  is  no  longer  a  mystical  metaphor  to  us,  —  "  If  a 
man  love  me,  my  Father  will  love  him,  and  we  will 
come  unto  him  and  make  our  abode  with  him  ";  for  the 
fact  is  illustrated  before  our  eyes.  The  hymn  is  read. 
W^hat  melody  !  what  cadence  !  The  tone  may  be  too 
prolonged,  and  too  undulating  the  accent  ;  but  we  can 
never,  never  again  forget  those  lines.  In  many  a  distant 
scene  of  doubt  and  fear,  of  trial  and  temptation,  their 
music  will  come  vibrating  through  the  inner  chambers 
of  our  hearts,  and,  at  the  sound,  our  bosom-sins  will 
disappear,  "  awed  by  the  presence  "  of  the  "  Great 
Invisible." 

The  singing  is  over.     The  hearts  of  the  hearers  are 
attuned.      The  spirit  of  the  preacher  has  already  per- 


292 


THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 


vaded  them,  and  softened  them  to  harmony.  It  is  the 
"new  commandment"  of  which  he  is  to  discourse. 
He  begins  by  portraying  the  overflowing  sympathy  with 
which  Jesus  forgot  his  own  impending  sufferings,  in  his 
desire  to  cheer  the  little  band  so  soon  to  be  scattered. 
We  are  there  with  them  in  the  upper  chamber  ;  we  are 
bathed  in  that  flood  of  benignity  ;  can  we  ever  be  faith- 
less to  this  most  lovely  and  all-loving  friend  ?  Thencf" 
passing  outwards,  he  lays  open  before  us  the  universal 
humanity  of  the  Son  of  Man  made  Son  of  God,  till  we 
seo  that  the  fulness  of  the  Spirit  in  him,  his  oneness  with 
the  Father,  was  his  pure  and  perfect  benevolence,  —  till 
we  begin  to  apprehend  how  such  a  sublime  self-sacrifice 
might  fit  the  Christ  to  be  the  abiding  mediator  between 
heaven  and  earth,  the  ruler  over  the  ages  to  introduce 
among  mankind  the  kingdom  of  God.  What  affec- 
tionate devotion,  what  adoring  reverence,  what  quick 
discrimination,  what  delicate  perception,  what  vividness, 
characterized  this  sketch  of  the  Master  !  Thus  ends 
the  first  branch  of  the  sermon.  And  now  he  is  to  as 
sure  us,  all  selfish,  immersed  in  the  busy  anxieties  of 
life,  habitually  incased  in  prejudices  and  conventionality, 
as  we  may  be,  that  this  spirit  of  unlimited  brotherly 
kindness  is  the  only  befitting  spirit  for  any  man,  for 
every  man,  —  that  we  are  encouraged  to  aspire  after  it, 
that  we  can  attain  to  it,  that  we  are  Christians  only  in 
the  measure  in  which  it  sanctifies  us.  How  carefully  he 
meets  and  disarms  objections  !  how  calmly  he  removes 
all  fear  of  undue  enthusiasm  !  how  deliberate  and  definite 
does  he  make  the  statement  of  his  propositions  !  The 
sound  sense  and  judgment  of  the  preacher  strike  us  now 
as  much  as  his  devout  earnestness  did  before.  There 
is  nothing  vague,  dreamy,  extravagant  in  this  cool  rea- 


DR.  channing's  preaching.  293 

soner.  Gradually  he  awakens  the  memory  and  con- 
science of  his  hearers,  and  reveals  to  them,  from  their 
own  observation  and  experience,  with  a  ttffi'ible  distinct- 
ness of  contrast,  what  the  professed  Christians  of  Chris- 
tendom actually  are.  There  are  no  expletives,  no 
fulminations,  no  fanatical  outpourings.  But  the  small 
figure  dilates,  —  the  luminous  gray  eye  now  flashes  with 
indignation,  now  softens  in  pity,  —  and  the  outstretched 
arm  and  clenched  hand  are  lifted  in  sign  of  protest  and 
warning,  as  the  wrongs  which  man  inflicts  on  man  are 
presented  with  brief  but  glowing  outlines.  How  the 
accidental  honors  of  the  so-called  great  flutter  like  filthy 
rags,  and  crumble  into  dust,  as  the  meanness  of  arbi- 
trary power  and  worldly  ambition  is  exposed  !  How 
the  down-trodden  outcasts  rise  up  in  more  than  royal 
dignity,  as  the  intrinsic  grandeur  of  man  reveals  itself 
through  their  badges  of  ignominious  servitude  !  The 
preacher  now  enlarges  upon  the  greatness  of  man  ;  he 
shows  how  worthy  every  human  being  is  of  love,  for  his 
nature,  if  not  for  his  character.  Sin  and  degradation 
are  made  to  appear  unspeakably  mournful,  when  meas- 
ured by  the  majestic  innate  powers,  the  celestial  des- 
tiny, appointed  to  the  most  debased  ;  every  spirit  be- 
comes venerable  to  us,  as  heir  of  God  and  coheir 
of  Christ,  as  the  once  lost  but  now  found,  the  once 
dead  but  now  living,  the  prodigal  yet  dearly  loved  child 
of  the  Heavenly  Father.  And  as  our  gaze  wanders 
over  the  congregation,  in  kindling  or  tearful  eyes,  in 
pallid  or  flushed  cheeks,  in  smiling  of  firm-set  lips  of 
many  a  hearer,  is  displayed  the  new  resolve  just  regis- 
tered in  the  will,  to  lead  a  truly  manly  life,  by  conse- 
crating one's  self  to  the  divine  work  of  raising  all  men 
upright  in  the  image  of  God. 
25* 


294  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

A  brief  petition  and  benediction  end  the  service  ; 
and  after  a  few  warm  pressures  of  the  hand,  and  mutual 
congratulations  that  such  a  sermon  has  been  heard,  the 
congregation  disperses.  If  this  is  the  first  time  we  have 
listened  to  the  preacher,  we  walk  home  through  the 
thronged  streets,  we  look  upon  our  fellow-men,  we 
tread  the  earth,  we  breathe  the  air,  we  feel  the  sunshine, 
with  a  new  consciousness  of  life.  This  hour  has  been 
an  era  in  existence.  Never  again  can  we  doubt  God's 
love,  disbelieve  in  Christ,  despond  for  ourselves,  despise 
our  fellows,  —  never  again  sigh  over  the  drudgery,  the 
lameness,  the  tantalizing  disappointments  of  this  work- 
day world.  How  solemn  in  grandeur,  how  unspeakably 
magnificent,  how  wonderful,  how  fresh  with  beauty  and 
joy,  open  now  before  us  the  present  lot,  the  future 
career,  of  man  !  This  sketch  may  seem  to  some  readers 
extravagant,  but  it  will  be  thought,  on  the  other  hand, 
tame  and  cold  by  those  who  in  memory  recall  the 
reality  which  it  so  faintly  resembles. 

It  was  doubtless  owing  to  the  energy  with  which 
Dr.  C banning  threw  his  whole  soul  into  his  ministra- 
tions, that  he  found  the  usual  pulpit  services  so  exhaust- 
ing. Full  of  conscientiousness  and  deep  emotion,  i.deal 
and  aspiring  to  a  most  rare  degree,  concentrated  and 
intense  in  all  his  mental  and  moral  processes,  unhabitu- 
ated  to  relaxation  and  variety  of  employment,  he  con- 
stantly experienced  extreme  nervous  prostration  after 
preaching.  Though  benefited  by  the  rest  and  refresh- 
ment of  foreign  travel,  he  innnediately  found,  upon  his 
return,  that  he  r.hould  be  entirely  broken  down,  if  he 
attempted  to  resume  the  whole  of  his  duties.  And  so, 
with  the  sense  of  duty  to  his  parish  which  was  con- 


CONTINUED    DEBILITY.  295 

spicuous  throughout  his  ministry,  he  determined  at  once 
to  lay  before  them  his  condition  and  the  exact  measure 
of  his  abiUty.  His  own  wish  was  to  ha^e  a  colleague 
settled  with  him  ;  but  he  chose  to  leave  the  society 
free  to  make  the  fust  movement,  and  addressed  them, 
therefore,  as  follows  :  — 

'^ Portsmouth,  R.  I,  Sept.  4, 1823. 
"  Christian  Friends  :  — My  much  esteemed  assistant,  Mr. 
Dewey,  having  made  known  to  me  his  desire  to  be  released 
from  his  present  engagement,  I  am  compelled  to  solicit  again 
your  attention  to  the  subject  of  obtaining  for  me  such  aid  as 
circumstances  may  render  necessary.  I  have  already  stated 
to  you,  and  I  beg  to  repeat  it,  that  the  improvement  of  my 
health,  though  very  encouraging,  is  not  such  as  to  warrant 
me  to  take  on  myself  all  the  duties  and  services  ordinarily 
expected  from  ministers ;  nor  ought  I  to  make  the  attempt, 
until  the  strength  which  I  have  gained  is  not  only  confirmed, 
but  increased.  Without  undue  solicitude  for  life,  I  desire 
earnestly  to  be  capable,  whilst  I  live,  of  some  exertion 
which  may  be  useful  to  my  people  and  family ;  and  this 
object  demands,  especially  at  the  present  moment,  great 
care  in  proportioning  my  labors  to  my  strength.  The 
thought  of  being  reduced  again  to  the  inactivity  and  use- 
lessness  to  which  I  have  been  condemned  for  some  time 
past  almost  overwhelms  me  ;  and  although  I  trust,  that, 
should  God  appoint  me  this  trial,  he  would  strengthen  me  to 
bear  it,  still  I  feel  that  I  am  not  only  permitted,  but  re- 
quired, to  use  whatever  means  of  averting  it  he  may  afford. 
I  have  no  right,  by  laboring  beyond  my  strength,  to  throw 
away  the  degree  of  health  which  I  have  gained  by  so  many 
sacrifices  ;  nor  should  I,  in  this  way,  consult  your  interests 
any  more  than  my  own  comfort.  Under  these  impressions, 
I  have  endeavoured  to  judge  to  what  extent  I  may  now 
resume  my  labors.     I  have  a  strong  confidence  that  I  can 


296  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

take  half  the  services  on  Sunday  without  injury.  Moni 
than  this  I  cannot  attempt  with  safety,  and  the  experienca 
of  several  years  "makes  me  fearful  that  it  will  occasionally 
be  prudent  for  me  to  abstain  from  preaching  on  both  parts  of 
the  day.  How  long  I  may  require  these  indulgences  I  cannot 
even  conjecture ;  for  the  effect  of  returning  to  labors  which 
have  been  so  long  discontinued  is  very  doubtful.  I  am  com- 
pelled, however,  to  say,  that,  as  debility  has  oppressed  me 
for  yeai-s,  I  am  authorized  to  anticipate  only  a  gradual  and 
slow  increase  of  strength,  and  that  there  is  no  probability 
of  my  resuming  speedily  all  the  duties  of  my  office.  Under 
these  circumstances,  I  am  exceedingly  desirous  that  such 
provisions  should  be  made  for  the  pulpit  as  will  secure  to 
my  people  the  most  edifying  and  acceptable  services ;  and 
I  feel  as  if  this  would  prove  a  medicine  to  the  body,  by  the 
relief  and  joy  it  would  give  to  my  mind.  For  this  end,  _ 
have  thought  proper  to  make  this  free  communication  in 
regard  to  my  state,  prospects,  hopes,  and  fears,  and  to  as- 
sure you  of  my  disposition  to  concur  with  you  in  whatever 
measures  the  welfare  and  religious  improvement  of  the 
church  may  be  thought  to  require. 

"  I  cannot  close  this  communication  without  renewing  my 
thanksgivings  to  Almighty  God  for  restoring  me  to  you  with 
some  ability  to  serve  you.  Longer  experience,  and  more 
extensive  observation  of  human  affairs,  have  only  served  to 
recommend  to  me  the  Christian  ministry,  and  to  strengthen 
my  wish  to  live  and  die  in  the  discharge  of  its  duties.  Im- 
ploring for  you  every  blessing  in  this  world  and  in  the  world 
to  come,  I  subscribe  myself 

"  Your  affectionate  friend  and  grateful  pastor." 

At  a  meeting  of  the  proprietors  of  the  meeting-house 
in  Federal  Street,  Sej)tenibcr  22,  this  letter  was  read, 
and  the  vote  unanimously  passed,  "  That  it  is  expedient 
to  settle  a  colleague  with  the  Rev.  Dr.  Channing,  pro 


DESIRE    FOR   A   COLLEAGUE.  297 

vided  It  will  meet  with  his  concurrence,  and  provided 
that  an  arrangement  can  be  made  in  relation  to  salaries 
satisfactory  to  the  society  and  the  pastors."  A  com- 
mittee was  also  appointed  to  confer  with  Dr.  Channing. 
His  wishes  were  thus  expressed  in  consequence  :  — 

"  Boston,  Sept.  2G,  1823. 
Gentlemen  :  —  The  votes  of  the  proprietors  of  the 
church  in  Federal  Street,  at  their  meeting  on  September 
22,  1823,  having  been  communicated  to  me,  I  take  an 
early  opportunity  to  express  my  views  and  feelings  in  re- 
lation to  the  subjects  to  which  they  refer,  and  I  shall  aim  to 
do  this  with  all  possible  simplicity. 

"  The  Jirst  question  suggested  by  the  votes  is,  whether  1 
wish  a  colleague.  On  this  point  I  have  not  spoken  freely, 
because  I  have  not  wished  to  influence  the  opinion  of  my 
parishioners.  I  have  chosen  that  they  should  act  from  their 
own  deliberate  and  independent  convictions  in  an  affair  so 
important  as  the  settlement  of  another  minister,  —  one  of 
the  most  important  in  life,  —  the  effects  of  which  will  ex- 
tend beyond  themselves  to  their  children,  and  be  felt  in  the 
society  perhaps  long  after  I  am  separated  from  it.  But 
now  that  my  opinion  is  requested,  I  have  no  hesitation  in 
saying  that  I  shall  receive  a  colleague  with  pleasure  ;  not 
merely  because  I  shall  find  the  greatest  relief  in  such  an 
arrangement,  but  chiefly  because  I  hope  from  it  the  greatest 
good  to  the  society.  I  should  be  most  grateful  to  God,  had 
I  strength  equal  to  the  whole  duties  of  the  ministry.  For 
these  duties  are  my  happiness,  and  I  am  aware  that  there 
are  strong  motives  for  having  them  discharged  by  a  single 
pastor. 

"  But  conscious  as  I  am  that  I  have  at  no  period  had 
sufficient  health  to  perform  them  thoroughly,  and  persuaded 
that  I  must  now  be  assisted  in  them,  the  question  offers 
itself,  whether  aid  shall  be  sought  for  me  in  a  variety  and 


298  THE    MINISTRY   AND   LITERATURE. 

succession  of  young  unsettled  preachers,  or  in  a  p(;rmanenJ 
assistant ;  and  the  last  mode  seems  to  me  to  possess  decided 
advantages,  provided  the  parish  can  secure  an  individual 
whose  piety,  ability,  and  general  acceptableness  shall  afford 
pledges  of  a  useful  ministry.  From  such  a  man  they  will 
receive  instructions  more  adapted  to  their  wants,  character, 
and  state,  more  matured  by  experience,  and  more  imbued 
with  a  deep,  affectionate  interest  in  their  welfare,  than  can 
be  expected  from  young  men  and  strangers ;  and  they  will 
receive  pastoral  aids,  not  only  from  the  pulpit,  but  of  a  mon; 
private  and  perhaps  not  less  useful  nature.  His  instructions, 
too,  will  be  heard  with  less  of  that  curiosity  and  spirit  of 
criticism  by  which  the  efficacy  of  preaching  is  weakened, 
and  with  more  of  that  personal  regard  which  adds  weight 
to  truth. 

"  Under  such  a  man,  I  should  hope  to  see  an  improve- 
ment of  the  condition  of  our  society,  —  not  of  its  outward 
condition,  for  this  is  sufficiently  prosperous,  but  of  its  inte- 
rior, religious,  spiritual  state.  I  should  hope  to  see  the 
marks  and  evidences  of  profounder  veneration  for  Chris- 
tianity, of  more  faithful  application  of  it  to  the  character, 
of  a  more  living  and  fruitful  piety,  and  of  a  stronger  interest 
in  the  cause  and  diffusion  of  our  religion.  I  feel  that  greater 
improvements  are  needed  among  us.  Not  that  I  have 
ground  to  complain  of  deficiency  of  attachment  to  myself. 
But  what  I  desire  is,  a  greater  attachment  to  that  cause,  that 
religion,  of  which  I  am  merely  the  instrument,  and  in  com- 
parison with  which  I  am  nothing,  and  deserve  no  consider- 
ation. With  God's  blessing  on  the  labor  of  another  joined 
to  my  own,  I  trust  that  the  purposes  of  our  connection 
would  be  answered  more  effectually  than  they  have  yet 
been  ;  and  this  is  my  great  motive  for  concurring,  as  I 
candidly  do,  in  the  opinion  of  the  society  on  the  subject  of 
a  colleague,  as  expressed  in  their  vote. 

"  The  question  of  salary  is  the  second  on  which  I  pre- 


RELINQUISHMENT    OF    SALARY.  299 

svime  I  am  expected  to  speak ;  and  I  wish  to  speak  as 
frankly  on  this  as  on  the  preceding  one.  I  am  aware  that 
this  is  a  question  of  great  delicacy,  for  the  connection  of  a 
minister  with  his  people  is  one  of  sentiment,  not  interest ; 
and  his  usefulness  can  hardly  suffer  more  than  by  his  falling 
under  the  suspicion  of  mercenary  views. 

"To  prevent  misconstructions  which  may  diminish  my 
power  of  doing  good  to  my  people,  and  not  from  any  selfish, 
excessive  sensitiveness  to  opinion,  I  think  proper  to  observe, 
then,  that  my  expenditures  equal  my  income,  and  that  dur- 
ing my  ministry  I  have  laid  up  nothing.  By  this  I  do  not 
mean,  that  my  whole  salary  and  other  income  are  necessary 
to  the  support  of  myself  and  my  family.  But  on  every  man 
there  are  various  claims,  which  generally  multiply  as  he 
advances  in  life ;  some  of  a  sacred  character,  which  must 
on  no  account  be  slighted  ;  others  less  binding,  but  still  of 
such  a  nature  that  the  inability  to  meet  them  is  painful,  and 
should  not  be  voluntarily  incurred.  In  addition  to  more 
private  claims,  there  are  at  present  so  many  institutions  and 
enterprises  for  promoting  the  cause  of  religion  and  human 
happiness,  which  invite  and  deserve  a  Christian's  assistance, 
that  I  should  be  grateful  to  Providence  for  an  increase  of 
property,  and  must  regard  a  diminution  of  it  as  an  evil. 
If,  indeed,  I  were  connected  with  a  poor  congregation,  I 
should  feel  that  to  serve  them  without  a  salary,  or  with  a 
very  small  one,  was  the  method  prescribed  by  Providence 
for  the  exercise  of  my  charity  ;  but  knowing  that  my  peo- 
ple respect  themselves  too  highly  to  desire  or  receive 
charitable  aid,  and  believing,  too,  that  none  of  us  contribute 
too  much,  and  few  enough,  to  the  cause  of  Christianity,  I 
do  not  consider  myself  as  called  or  authorized  to  give  up 
a  large  part  of  the  compensation  which  I  have  received 
I  will  cheerfully  relinquish  one  quarter  of  my  salary,  which 
will  leave  me  about  sixteen  hundred  dollars  per  annum  ; 
and  when  the  conditions  on  which  I  was  settled  are  remem- 


300  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

bered,  and  when  it  is  considered  that  I  am  devoting  my  hfe 
and  best  powers  to  the  ministry,  I  presume  that  my  claims 
will  be  thought  by  none  unreasonable.  I  am,  however,  quite 
ignorant  of  the  feelings  of  the  society  on  this  point ;  and 
earnestly  desiring,  that,  in  such  a  connection  as  ours,  all  se- 
cret discontents  and  heart-burnings  may  be  avoided,  7  ]  nre 
that  these  feelings  will  be  fully  and  freely  expressed. 

"  I  cannot  close  this  communication  without  impiorins; 
Divine  guidance  for  my  people  and  myself,  that  we  may 
adopt  such  measures  as  will  strengthen  our  union,  and  build 
us  up  in  the  faith  and  hope,  in  the  spirit  and  most  exalted 
virtues,  of  our  religion. 

"  With  great  affection  and  respect,  your  friend  and  pas- 
tor." 

On  September  29th,  the  foregoing  letter  was  read  to  the 
proprietors,  who  voted,  "  That  the  letter  of  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Channing  to  the  Committee  is  highly  acceptable  to  the 
proprietors  of  the  Federal  Street  meeting-house,"  and 
that  the  propositions  of  the  letter  and  of  the  Committee 
be  accepted.  The  Committee,  in  their  report,  had  said 
that  the  proposed  salary  of  Dr.  Channing  "  is  the  result 
of  his  voluntary  relinquishment,  in  the  event  of  the  settle- 
ment of  a  colleague,  of  a  portion  of  his  present  income, 
the  continuance  of  which  he  is  entitled  to  claim.  The 
motives  and  views  on  this  head  expicssed  in  his  lett:ir  are 

entirely    satisfactory    to    the    Committee They 

believe  it  to  be  unnecessary  to  enlarge  on  such  a  topic, 
and  in  relation  to  a  connection  so  highly  and  justly  valued 
by  every  member  of  the  society." 

In  a  private  letter  to  a  friend,  Dr.  Channing  thus  brief- 
ly, yet  lully,  opens  his  heart  in  relation  to  the  proposed 
arrangement :  — 

"  Sept.  24,  1823.     My  mind  is  somewhat  engaged  no\f 


REV.    E.    S.    GANNETT.  301 

by  parish  affairs,  my  people  having  expressed  a  desire  of  es- 
tablishing a  colleague  with  me,  an  event  too  interesting  tu 
them  and  me  to  be  anticipated  without  some  concern,  though 
1  earnestly  wish  to  make  the  experiment.  I  dare  not  hope 
to  be  equal  to  all  the  duties  of  my  office,  and  I  cannot  but 
fear  lest  my  people  may  suffer  through  my  infirmities.  I 
am  aware  of  having  my  full  share  of  imperfections  ;  but  il 
seems  to  me  that  I  should  find  satisfaction  in  having  a  col- 
league, who  will  be  much  more  useful  than  myself,  and  con- 
spicuously more  useful.  I  do  not  despair,  indeed  ;  but  1 
have  not  done  as  much  good  as  I  hoped,  though  as  much, 
perhaps,  as  I  had  a  right  to  expect." 

In  the  spring  of  1824,  the  Rev.  Ezra  Stiles  Gannett 
was  invited  and  ordained  to  be  the  Associate  Pastor  of 
the  Federal  Street  Society.  The  relations  between  Dr. 
Channing  and  his  colleague  were,  for  the  long  period  of 
eighteen  years,  most  intimate,  cordial,  and  mutually  ben- 
eficial. Dr.  Gannett  has  expressed,  for  himself,  in  his 
address  at  the  funeral  services  of  his  spiritual  father,  his 
tender  and  reverential  affection  "for  one  whom  he  hon- 
ored not  less  because  he  may  have  loved  him  more  than 
others  who  beheld  him  at  a  greater  distance,"  and  has  thus 
borne  his  testimony  to  Dr.  Channing's  faithfulness  in  the 
delicate  and  difficult  duties  of  their  official  intercourse  :  — 
"  After  my  connection  with  this  society,  he  encouraged 
me  in  every  plan  T  undertook,  welcomed  every  sign  of 
increasing  sympathy  and  energy  among  us,  and  cheered 
me  under  every  occasion  of  despondency.  How  often 
would  my  spirit  have  wholly  sunk  within  me,  if  he  had 
not  animated  me  to  new  struggle  with  the  discouragement 
of  my  own  heart  !  "  And,  on  the  other  hand,  Dr.  Chan- 
ning paid  the  following  warm  tribute  to  Mr.  Gannett,  on 
the  occasion  when  that  conscientious  and  indefatigable 

VOL.   II.  26 


302  THE    MINISTRi'    AND    LirERATURft. 

minister  was  for  a  time  worn  out  by  his  excessive  labors, 
and  was  compelled  to  seek,  in  foreign  travel,  a  renewal 
of  his  powers  of  usefulness  :  —  "Of  the  faithfulness  of  our 
friend,  to  this  congregation  I  need  not  speak.  He  toiled 
day  and  night  for  the  cause  to  which  he  had  given  him- 
self, until,  at  length,  he  sunk  under  his  labors.  Of  his 
connection  with  myself,  let  me  say  that  it  has  never  for 
a  moment  been  disturbed  by  a  word,  I  may  add,  by  a 
thought,  which  friendship  would  wish  to  recall.  JNIutual 
confidence,  a  disposition  in  each  to  concede  to  the  other 
unrestricted  freedom  of  opinion  and  operation,  and,  I 
trust,  a  disposition  to  rejoice  in  one  another's  success, 
have  given  us  the  benefits  of  this  relation,  unmixed  with 
the  evils  to  which  it  is  thought  to  be  liable.  I  rejoice, 
niy  friends,  in  the  proofs  you  have  given  our  friend  of 
your  interest  in  his  welfare,  of  your  gratitude  for  his  ser- 
vices. I  rejoice  in  the  testimony  you  have  borne  to  the 
worth  of  the  Christian  ministry.  Our  friend  will  carry 
with  him,  wherever  he  goes,  the  consoling,  cheering  re- 
collection of  your  sympathy  and  kindness.  May  he  be 
followed  by  our  prayers,  as  well  as  affections  !  May  he 
meet  friends  in  strangers  !  May  a  kind  Providence  in- 
fuse new  life  and  strength  into  his  debilitated  frame  ! 
May  he  return  once  again,  to  instruct,  comfort,  improve, 
and  bless  this  congregation  !  " 

Throughout  their  long  intercourse,  from  the  time  of 
his  settlement  to  that  of  his  death,  Dr.  Channing  and  liie 
Federal  Street  Society  vied  with  each  other  in  liberality  ; 
and,  as  the  facts  do  honor  to  both  parties  and  reveal  in- 
teresting points  of  character,  it  seems  but  just  to  give 
some  indications  of  the  mutual  respect  and  kindness  which 
bound  them  together.      The  resignation  of  a  portion  of 


RELATIONS    TO    THE    SOCIETY.  303 

his  salary  by  Dr.  Channing,  as  a  means  of  better  enabling 
the  society  to  provide  suitably  for  a  collg^ue,  has  been 
noticed.  But,  from  period  to  period,  as  he  found  that 
his  friend's  labors  and  responsibilities  were  multiplied, 
while  his  own  were  proportionately  lessened,  he  gradu- 
ally gave  up  the  remainder  of  his  salary,  until  the  pecuni- 
ary lie  between  himself  and  his  congregation  became  al- 
most nominal.  A  few  letters  and  votes,  taken  from  the 
records  of  the  Federal  Street  Society,  illustrate  the  gen- 
erous spirit  upon  both  sides. 

"  My  Christian  Brethren  :  —  Having  reason  to  appre- 
hend that  I  shall  be  obliged  to  diminish  my  exertions  for  a 
time,  and  feeling  increased  doubts  as  to  the  degree  of  ser- 
vice which  I  may  be  able  to  render  hereafter,  1  have  thought 
proper  to  relinquish  five  hundred  dollars  of  my  salary,  after 
the  present  parish  year,  which  will  close  with  this  month.  I 
still  hope  to  labor,  and  gradually  to  extend  my  labors  among 
you,  as  a  Christian  minister.  This  object,  however,  requires 
that  I  should  carefully  abstain  from  every  efibrt  which  may 
threaten  any  injury  to  my  health,  and  I  trust,  that,  in  exer- 
cising my  discretion  on  this  point,  I  shall  not  be  considered 
as  consulting  my  ease  rather  than  my  usefulness,  or  as  de- 
serting those  great  interests  to  which  my  life  has  been  devot- 
ed. 1  am  happy  to  add,  that  I  have  found  much  relief  and 
satisfaction  in  the  zeal  and  cheerfulness  with  which  my  col- 
league has  performed  the  duties  which  have  multiplied  upon 
him  in  consequence  of  my  impaired  health ;  and  I  pray  that 
his  connection  with  you  may  prove  a  continually  increasing 
good. 

"  With  Christian  regards,  I  remain 

"  Your  affectionate  friend  and  pastor. 

"  April  4ih,  1825." 

"Reverend  and  dear  Sir:  —  We  duly  received    youi 


304  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

communication  of  the  4th  instant;  and  we  should  immediate- 
ly have  acknowledged  it,  but  for  the  hope  we  indulged  that 
possibly  a  more  speedy  restoration  to  health  and  strength, 
than  either  your  friends  or  yourself  at  that  time  anticipated, 
might  afford  us  a  reasonable  ground  for  urging  you  to  delay 
for  the  present  a  step  which  seems  to  loosen  in  some  degree 
your  connection  with  our  society. 

"  It  is  with  the  most  sincere  pleasure  we  now  learn  that 
yDur  disease  has  abated  and  that  your  strength  is  returning 
to  you,  and  we  therefore  take  the  liberty  of  making  the  sug- 
gestion, whether  it  may  not  consist  as  well  with  your  own 
views  on  this  subject,  and  with  the  views  and  wishes  of  your 
friends  and  connections,  that  the  relinquishment  of  salary 
proposed  in  your  communication  to  us  should  be  deferred,  or 
at  least  confined  to  a  limited  time,  until  a  few  months'  relax- 
ation should  enable  you  better  to  decide  whether  your  health 
and  comfort  will  render  it  impracticable  for  you  to  continue 
to  perform  so  large  a  portion  of  the  pastoral  duties  as  you 
contemplated  at  the  settlement  of  Mr.  Gannett. 

"  We  make  this  suggestion,  dear  Sir,  with  great  diffi- 
dence, entertaining  the  highest  respect  for  your  own  judg- 
ment, and  that  of  your  friends,  on  this  subject,  and  feeling 
the  most  perfect  conviction  that  nothing  but  absolute  neces- 
sity would  induce  you  to  diminish  your  exertions  in  a  cause 
to  which  you  have  hitherto  devoted  your  life,  and  in  which 
your  labors  have  been  so  eminently  beneficial  to  your  fellow- 
beings.  If  you  continue  to  be  of  opinion  that  the  course  al- 
ready adopted  is  the  most  judicious  one,  we  shall  lay  your 
communication  before  the  proprietors  at  tlie  annual  meeting 
which  will  be  on  the  4th  day  of  May. 

"  With  tlie  most  earnest  prayers  that  your  health  may  be 
completely  restored  and  confirmed  to  you,  we  are,  dear  Sir. 
"  Your  sincere  friends  and  parishioners, 

"John  Lee,"  &c. 
Boston,  April  19th,  1825. 


RELATIONS    TO    THE    SOCIETY.  305 

Dr.  Channing's  letter  was  consequently  withdrawn  by 
him.     In  his  note,  he  says  :  — 

"  I  made  the  proposition  to  reUnquish  a  part  of  my  salary, 
in  the  behef  that  I  was  consuUing  my  own  usefulness  and 
the  welfare  of  the  society.  I  am  persuaded,  however,  that 
you  understand  what  the  interests  of  the  parish  demand  bet- 
ter than  I  do ;  and  if  you  apprehend  that  any  injury  will  re- 
sult from  communicating  my  letter  at  the  next  parish  meet- 
ing, or  that  greater  good  may  be  anticipated  from  withhold- 
ing it,  I  am  entirely  willing  that  it  should  be  passed  over  for 
the  present. 

"  Your  friend. 
^•^  April  28/A,  1825." 

"  To  the  Committee  of  the  Religious  Society  in  Federal  Street. 

"  Gentlemen  :  —  I  have  thought  fit  to  relinquish  four  hun- 
dred dollars  of  my  salary  from  the  commencement  of  the 
present  parochial  year,  so  that  the  salary  will  be  twelve  hun- 
dred, instead  of  sixteen  hundred,  per  annum.  My  intention 
was  to  communicate  this  to  you  before  the  day  of  the  annual 
meeting ;  but,  through  mistake,  I  have  not  done  it.  I  have 
some  views  which  I  may  lay  before  you  at  a  future  time, 
and  can  only  add,  that  I  remain,  with  the  best  wishes  for 
yourselves  and  the  society, 

"  Your  sincere  friend. 

"  May  2,  1827." 

"  Dear  Sir  :  —  I  believe  that  this  is  the  evening  on  which 
the  Committee  of  the  Federal  Street  Church  meet,  and  I  wil. 
thank  you  to  inform  the  gentlemen  that  it  is  my  wish  (o  re- 
linquish two  hundred  dollars  of  my  salary  after  this  time.  1 
presume  that  no  objections  now  exist  to  such  an  arrange- 
ment. 

"  Very  sincerely,  your  friend. 
"  May  4, 1829." 

26* 


306  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

"  Dear  Sir  :  —  I  believe  that  this  is  the  evening  on  which 
the  committee  of  our  parish  meet ;  and  if  so,  I  will  thank 
you  to  express  my  desire  that  my  salary  may  be  reduced  to 
the  sum  of  eight  hundred  dollars,  and  that  I  may  be  released 
at  the  same  time  from  the  tax  I  pay  for  my  pew. 

"  With  sincere  regard,  your  friend. 

"  May  3,  1830." 

On  May  5th,  a  vote  was  passed  by  the  proprietors  in 
accordance  with  his  wish.  The  three  deacons  were 
appointed  "  a  committee  to  wait  upon  Dr.  Channing  and 
to  express  the  gratitude  of  the  society  to  him  for  this  act 
of  liberality." 

"  Dear  Sir  :  —  I  learned  from  your  letter  yesterday  that 
a  meeting  of  the  proprietors  of  our  church  is  to  be  held  to- 
day, to  settle  some  of  its  pecuniary  concerns.  I  will  thank 
you  to  inform  the  meeting,  that,  as  I  was  absent  from  the 
country  half  of  the  last  year,  it  is  my  wish  and  purpose  to 
relinquish  one  half  of  a  year's  salary. 

"  Very  truly  your  friend. 

"  October  24,  1831." 

October  24,  it  was  voted  unanimously,  "  That  the 
clerk  be  directed  to  present  the  thanks  of  the  proprietors 
to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Channing  for  his  liberal  offer,  but  re- 
spectfully to  decline  accepting  it." 

"  To  the  Members  of  the  Congregational  Socictij  in  Federal  Street. 

"Boston,  Nov.  1,  1832. 

"  My  Christian  Friends  :  —  This  day  being  the  com- 
mencement of  the  last  half  of  our  parochial  year,  I  have 
thought  it  a  fit  time  for  a  communication  which,  perhaps, 
ought  to  have  been  made  before.  The  uncertainty  of  my 
health  and  consequent  uncertainty  of  my  oflicial  services  have 
led  me  to  think  that  a  change,  in  one  respect,  should  be 


RELATIONS  TO  THE  SOCIETY.  307 

made  in  the  relation  subsisting  between  us.  It  seems  to  me 
that  my  salary  should  cease  ;  and,  accordingly,  I  relinquish 
it  from  the  present  time.  In  taking  this  step,  1  have  no  de- 
sire to  dissolve  my  pastoral  connection  with  you.  I  wi&h 
to  continue  it,  provided  you  shall  believe,  that,  in  so  doing, 
I  may  promote  your  best  interests.  I  still  hope  that  I  may 
recover  strength  for  occasional  preaching.  To  be  wholly  cut 
off  from  this  means  of  usefulness  would  be  to  me  a  great 
affliction.  I  feel,  however,  more  strongly  than  I  have  done, 
that  I  ought  never  to  preach  without  a  decided  conviction  that 
my  health  will  not  suffer  from  the  effort ;  and  I  believe,  that, 
in  relinquishing  my  salary,  my  judgment  on  this  point  will 
be  more  unembarrassed  than  at  present. 

"  I  beg  you  to  accept  my  thanks  for  the  interest  which 
you  have  so  long  taken  in  me  and  my  labors.  No  one  of 
you  can  feel  more  than  I  do  how  broken  and  imperfect  my 
sermons  have  been.  Under  my  infirmities,  however,  I  have 
found  comfort  in  knowing  that  you  were  enjoying  the  faith- 
ful and  able  labors  of  my  colleague.  It  is  my  earnest  desire 
and  prayer,  that  the  religion  of  Christ  may  be  preached  to 
you  in  its  purity  and  with  increasing  success.  This  divine 
truth  becomes  more  and  more  precious  to  me,  under  every 
new  visitation  of  sickness  and  suffering.  I  can  ask  nothing 
better  for  my  dearest  friends  than  that  they  may  know,  by 
experience,  its  purifying  influences  and  never-failing  sup- 
ports. 

"  With  great  affection  and  respect, 

"  Your  friend  and  pastor. 

"  Mv.  1, 1832." 

On  November  19th,  1832,  it  was  "  Voted,  That  a 
committee  of  five  persons  be  appointed  to  express  the 
unabated  respect  and  affection  of  the  society  to  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Channing,  and  their  grateful  sense  of  his  past  ser- 
vices, and  to  request  that  he  will  continue  to  act  as  their 


338  THE  m:nistry  and  literature. 

pastor  on  the  same  terms  as  at  present,  with  the  under- 
standing that  he  shall  not  be  expected  to  officiate,  ex- 
cept when  he  can  do  it  conveniently  and  with  perfect 
safety  to  his  health." 

"  To  the  Commillee  of  the  Federal  Street  Socictrj. 

"  Gentlemen  :  —  Allow  me,  through  you,  to  offer  to  the 
members  of  our  parish  my  grateful  acknowledgments  for 
the  recent  expressions  of  their  regard.  I  will  also  thank  jou 
to  inform  them  that  I  accede  to  the  request  contained  in  the 
vote  passed  at  their  late  meeting.  It  is  not  necessary  to  state 
particularly  the  considerations  which  have  led  me  to  this  re- 
sult. I  would  only  observe,  that,  from  the  communications 
which  I  have  received,  I  am  satisfied  that  the  condition  on 
which  I  offered  my  services  would  not  be  acceptable  to  them, 
and  therefore  I  forbear  to  urge  it.  I  desire,  however,  that 
one  thing  may  be  understood  ;  —  if,  at  any  time,  the  state  of 
my  health,  or  any  other  circumstances,  should  induce  me  to 
relinquish  permanently,  or  for  a  season,  a  part  of  my  salary, 
I  ask  that  my  wishes  may  take  effect  by  being  simply  ex- 
pressed to  the  standing  committee  ;  and  that  no  communi- 
cation on  my  part  to  the  society,  and  no  deliberation  of  the 
society  on  the  subject,  may  again  be  required.  I  fear  that 
on  this  point  I  have  already  said  more  than  its  importance 
justifies;  and  I  believe  that  I  shall  consult  the  feelings  of  my 
parishioners,  as  well  as  my  own,  by  suggesting  a  mode  of 
procedure  which  will  render  any  future  recurrence  to  it  un- 
necessary. 

"  Accept  my  thanks  for  your  friendly  interest,  and  believe 
me,  with  sentiments  of  respect,  your  sincere  friend. 

"JVor.  24, 1832." 

"  Dear  Sir:  —  This  day  being  the  beginning  of  our  paro- 
chial year,  I  will  thank  you  to  express  to  the  committee  of 
our  society  my  desire,  that,  from  this  time,  a  reduction  of  two 
hundred  dollars  may  be  made  in  my  annual  salary.     You 


RELATIONS    TO    THE    SOCIETY.  309 

will  probably  recollect,  thai,  according  to  my  last  letter  to  the 
society,  this  desire  will  take  effect  without  being  communi- 
cated to  them  for  their  concurrence. 

"  Very  sincerely,  your  friend. 
"  Philadelphia,  May  1,  1833." 

"  Gentlemen  :  —  I  will  thank  you  to  express,  at  some 
suitable  time,  to  the  members  of  our  religious  society,  my 
purpose  of  relinquishing,  at  the  end  of  the  parochial  year, 
the  compensation  which  I  now  receive  for  my  services.  It 
is  a  deliberate  act,  and  I  beg  them  to  acquiesce  in  it.  I 
am  not  solicitous,  however,  to  give  up  entirely  my  relation 
as  one  of  their  ministers,  should  they  desire  its  continuance. 
My  long  connection  with  the  society,  the  tender  recollections 
which  spring  up  when  I  look  back  on  the  many  years  devot- 
ed to  the  ministry  among  them,  and  the  hope  that  I  may  still 
confer  some  benefit,  however  small,  incline  me  to  continue 
the  relation  as  long  as  it  shall  seem  to  me  not  to  interfere 
with  higher  means  of  usefulness.  They  will  naturally  ex- 
pect that  my  labors  among  them  will  be  diminished,  and  will 
not  be  surprised,  if  I  should  use  the  freedom  which  I  shall 
enjoy  in  giving  a  somewhat  different  direction  to  my  exer- 
tions in  the  cause  of  humanity  and  religion.  It  is  my  earnest 
prayer  that  their  deliberations  and  efforts  for  securing  to 
themselves  and  their  children  the  mer.ns  of  religious  im- 
provement may  be  blessed  by  God,  —  that  their  union  may 
be  unbroken,  — that  they  may  be  more  and  more  established 
jn  Christian  faith  and  virtue,  —  and  that,  under  the  merciful 
discipline  of  our  Heavenly  Father,  we  may  all  prepare  our- 
selves for  the  indissoluble  ties  and  everlasting  happiness  of 

the  world  to  come. 

"  Your  sincere  friend. 
"Jan.  9,1828:' 

This  letter  was  written  because  the  Society  in  Federal 
Street  was  desirous  of  settling  a  colleague  to  aid  Mr. 


310  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

Gannett,  at  a  period  when  he  was  very  much  enfeebled, 
and  Dr.  Channing  considered  the  burden  of  three  minis- 
ters altogether  unnecessary.  But  as  Mr.  Gannett's 
health  became  restored,  the  plan  was  abandoned  ;  and  at 
the  request  of  the  society.  Dr.  Channing  resumed  his 
former  relations.  The  series  of  tliese  communications 
was  closed  by  the  two  following  letters,  which  seemed 
prophetically  to  announce  the  close  of  his  earthly  min- 
istry :  — 

*'  To   the   Standing    Committee  of  the   Proprietors  of  the    Church   in 
Federal  Street. 

"  Gentlemen  :  —  This  day  being  the  beginning  of  our 
parochial  year,  I  think  it  a  fit  season  for  a  communication 
which  I  have  for  some  time  intended  to  make.  I  have,  as 
you  may  recollect,  proposed  more  than  once  to  relinquish 
my  salary,  but  have  as  often  been  requested  by  the  society 
to  retain  it.  The  last  request  was  communicated  to  me  by 
the  Hon.  J.  Davis  and  the  Hon.  J.  Welles,  with  a  kindness 
which  I  shall  always  remember  with  gratitude.  I  observed 
to  them,  that  one  reason  for  relinquishing  the  salary  was, 
that  by  receiving  it  I  should  excite  expectations  which  I 
might  not  be  able  to  fulfil.  But  I  was  assured,  that  I  was 
to  consider  myself  as  wholly  free,  and  to  preach  only  when 
it  might  be  convenient.  I  have  never  lost  the  hope  of  being 
strengthened  for  greater  public  labors  ;  but  as  yet  it  has  not 
■  been  realized.  Under  this  experience,  I  have  gradually  re- 
duced my  salary,  and  have  resolved  definitely  to  relinquish 
it  from  this  day.  It  is  also  my  wish  and  purpose  that  all 
my  public  functions  should  cease.  I  do  not  desire,  however, 
that  a  formal  dissolution  of  our  connection  should  take 
place.  Having  sustained  the  relation  of  pastor  nearly  forty 
years,  it  will  be  gratifying  to  me  that  it  should  continue, 
whilst  circumstances  remain  as  they  are.  I  wish  that  the 
members  of  the  society  may  feel  that  they  have  a  right  to 


RELATIONS  TO  THE  SOCIETY.  311 

seek  friendly  and  spiritual  counsel  from  me,  when  in  need 
of  such,  and  thqt  I  may  have  a  right  to  communicate  with 
them,  when  I  can  hope  to  do  them  good.  I  ^eg,  however, 
that  it  may  be  understood,  that  the  prosperity  of  the  society 
IS  far  dearer  to  me  than  any  personal  gratification  of  this 
nature  ;  and  if  it  should  be  thought  best  that  there  should 
be  a  formal  dissolution  of  the  relation,  I  desire  that  this  may 
immediately  take  place. 

"  In  thus  bringing  my  public  labors  among  you  to  an  end, 
!  cannot  but  acknowledge  with   gratitude  that  kind  Provi- 
dence  which  has  sustained  me  so  many  years  amidst  much 
physical  infirmity,  and  which  has  made  it  the  employment 
of  my  life  to  study  and  teach  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ. 
After  a  long  experience,  I  feel  that  life  could  not  have  been 
devoted  to  a  more  worthy  end.     My  time  has  been  given 
chiefly  to  the  work  of  acquiring  juster,  clearer,  more  quick- 
ening views  of  truth  and  duty.     In  this  pursuit  I  have  spent 
my  strength,  and  cheerfully  surrendered  most  of  what  are 
called  the  pleasures  of  life.    That  in  so  doing  I  have  obeyed 
a  Divine  impulse,  I  believe  ;  but  I  may  have  followed  it  too 
exclusively.     The  inquiries  and    contemplations  which  be- 
long to  my  profession  may  have  encroached  on  its  more  ac- 
tive duties.     My  studies,  which  would  have  been  light  to  a 
man  of  ordinary  strength,  have  produced   almost  daily  an 
exhaustion  which  has  left  me  little  spirit  for  social  inter- 
course.    It  might  have  been  better  for  myself  and  for  others, 
had   I   more    frequently   torn  my  mind   from   the  subjects 
which  have  absorbed  almost  my  whole  intellectual  energy. 
For  this  error,  if  such  it  be,  I  ask  and  hope  a  lenient  judg- 
ment,  because  I  have  not  given  myself  to  intellectual  indul- 
gence,  but  have  carried  into  my  seclusion  a  sincere,  and  I 
hope  a  growing,  interest  in  my  fellow-creatures,  and  in  the 
Christian   cause.     Other   and    more   serious   deficiencies    I 
might  recall.     Indeed,  no  one  can  feel  more  than  I  do  the 
imperfections  of  my  ministry.     For  these  I  desire  forgive 


312  TIIK    WINISTKY    AND    LITERATURE. 

ness  of  God  and  man.  Still,  I  do  not  feel  as  if  I  had 
labored^  in  vain.  My  public  services  have  Jbeen  listened  to 
■\vilh  interest,  and  I  have  had  proofs,  for  which  I  am  most 
grateful,  that  deeper  effects  than  transient  interest  have 
beerj  produced  by  my  ministry.  Not  that  I  have  accom- 
plished what  I  wished.  As  a  people,  I  fear,  we  are  greatly 
wanting  in  that  spiritual  elevation,  that  superiority  to  the 
world,  that  love  of  God,  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  of  mankind, 
which  is  the  end  of  religious  institutions.  In  truth,  all  our 
churches  need  a  new  life,  a  new  comprehension  of  the 
spirit  and  high  purpose  of  Christianity.  This  I  say  for  the 
truth's  sake,  and  in  sorrow  of  heart,  and  not  from  any 
wounded  feelings  under  the  consciousness  of  having  exerted 
no  greater  influence.  As  far  as  I  am  personally  concerned, 
I  have  nothing  to  complain  of,  no  reproaches  to  utter.  I 
have  received  for  many  years  expressions  of  kindness,  for 
which  I  offer  my  sincere  thanks.  It  is,  indeed,  a  gratifying 
consideration,  that  our  long  union  has  not  been  disturbed  even 
by  a  word  of  contention.  I  am  not  aware  that  a  thought  or 
emotion  of  unkindness  has  risen  within  me  towards  one  ot 
my  parishioners.  Were  I  now  to  leave  them,  I  could  from 
tlie  heart  bid  an  affectionate  farewell  to  all. 

"  I  have  spoken  of  the  past.  It  is  natural  for  me  at  such 
a  moment  to  cast  a  look  towards  the  future.  It  is  possible 
that  some  sphere  of  action,  not  now  anticipated,  may  open 
on  me.  It  is  more  probable  that  my  present  sphere  will  be 
contracted.  When  I  look  round  me,  I  see  not  one  of  the 
ministers  who  filled  the  pulpits  of  this  city  at  my  ordination. 
All  have  gone  to  their  account ;  and  not  a  few,  settled  since, 
have  also  passed  away.  He,  who  seemed  destined  to  go 
among  the  first,  survives  alone.  Can  I  help  applying  to 
myself  the  language  of  the  Apostle,  —  '  The  time  of  my 
departure  is  at  hand  '?  Nor  is  the  time  very  distant,  when 
all  to  whom  I  have  ministered  will  have  entered  the  un- 
known world.     It  is  my  fervent  prayer  that  we  may  meet 


RELATIOxNS    TO    THE    SOCIETY.  313 

m  the  temple  '  not  made  with  hands,'  and  that  a  holier 
worship  than  has  united  us  here  may  bind  us  together 
for  ever.  ■*• 

"  I  may  on  another  occasion  express  my  feelings  more 
fully  to  the  society.  I  earnestly  desire  that  they  may  con- 
tinue to  enjoy  the  laboi-s  of  their  devoted  pastor,  and  that, 
through  this  and  other  means  of  religion,  their  harmony 
may  be  pirpetuated,  and  their  spiritual  improvement  never 
cease. 

"  With  respect  and  affection,  your  friend. 
''May  1,  1840." 

"  The  Proprietors  and  Congregation  of  the  Church  in  Berry  Street  to 
their  Senior  Pastor,  the  Reverend  William  Ellery  Channing,  D.  D. 

"  Reverend  and  dear  Sir  :  —  We  have  received  from 
the  standing  committee  of  the  proprietors  the  letter  you  ad- 
dressed them  on  the  first  instant,  announcing  your  purpose 
from  that  day  to  relinquish  the  small  remainder  of  salary, 
which,  at  our  earnest  request,  you  had  till  then  consented  to 
receive  from  us  ;  and  expressing  your  desire,  that,  without 
formally  dissolving  the  connection  that  has  so  long  and  so 
happily  subsisted  between  us,  your  public  functions  as  a 
minister  of  Christ  to  this  society  may  cease. 

"  We  do  not  wish  to  conceal  from  you  that  we  receive 
this  decision  with  regret  and  pain.  Perhaps  we  feel  it  the 
more  sensibly,  because  it  seemed  to  be  our  duty  to  ac- 
quiesce in  it,  and  thus  make  it  final.  For  several  years,  we 
have  known  that  you  considered  such  a  separation  as  you 
now  propose  desirable,  on  account  of  the  state  of  your 
health;  and  if  we  have  heretofore  been  unwilling  to  give  it 
•  oui  concurrence,  it  has  been  from  feelings  of  respect  and 
attachment  to  yourself,  that  have  grown  old  in  many  of  our 
hearts,  and  sunk  deep  in  all  of  them.  We  may,  from  these 
feelings,  have  resisted  your  wishes  longer  than  we  ought  to 
have  done,  but  we  hope  and  trust  we  have  not  been  un- 

VOL.   II.  27 


314  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

reasonable  ;  and  now  that  the  time  has  arrived  when  \vc  are 
not  permitted  to  hesitate  in  giving  to  them  our  full  assent,  it 
gratifies  us  that  you  do  not  seek  to  make  the  separation 
absolute  and  entire,  but  that  you  are  desirous  on  your  part, 
as  we  are  on  ours,  to  retain  some  of  the  bonds  that  have 
united  us  during  a  connection  that  has  been  permitted  to  be 
so  happy  and  to  last  so  long. 

"  You  allude  to  the  possibility,  that  some  inconvenience 
may  hereafter  arise  to  us  from  the  continuance  of  these 
bonds.  We  anticipate  none.  We  can  imagine  nothing  but 
good  from  their  continuance.  Still,  if,  in  the  course  of 
Providence,  any  inconvenience  should  be  felt,  we  shall,  in 
the  spirit  of  frankness  with  which  you  have  spoken  of  our 
union  and  its  motives,  avail  ourselves  of  your  permission  to 
dissolve  it,  trusting,  that,  with  the  same  frankness,  you  would 
claim  the  right  you  grant ;  and  if  it  should  at  any  time  seem 
important  or  desirable  to  you  to  exercise  it,  that  you  would 
do  so,  and  separate  yourself  from  us  wholly.  We  do  not, 
however,  suppose  it  at  all  likely  that  either  party  will  take 
a  step  which  we  are  sure  neither  would  take  but  with  great 
reluctance  and  from  a  strong  sense  of  duty  ;  and  we  allude 
to  its  possibility  only  because  you  have  done  so,  and  be- 
cause we  think  it  important  that  both  should  feel  perfectly 
free  to  act  in  circumstances  that  cannot  be  foreseen. 

"  Our  connection,  as  you  intimate,  has  been  continued 
through  a  longer  period  than  could  at  first  have  been  an- 
ticipated, —  a  period,  indeed,  so  long,  that  few  remain 
among  us  who  bore  witness  to  its  beginning.  You  came  to 
us  thirty-seven  years  ago,  when  our  numbers  were  so  few, 
and  our  circumstances  so  humble,  that  it  was  apparent  you 
came  only  from  a  sense  of  duty,  and  from  a  disinterested 
desire  to  serve  your  fellow-men.  Under  your  care,  however, 
we  soon  prospered  and  grew  numerous.  But  at  eveiy  step 
of  our  progress,  we  felt,  that,  under  God's  good  providence, 
we  owed  it  chiefly  to  you.     We  have,  too,  as  we  trust,  been 


RELATIONS    TO    THE    SOCIETY.  315 

fhaiikful  for  the  ministrations  we  have  enjoyed.  We  have 
certainly  felt  them  to  be  a  privilege, —  a  great  privilege, — 
and  we  have  greatly  valued  them.  Nor  h«R6  their  influence 
been  confined  to  ourselves.  They  have  been  felt  and  ac- 
knowledged beyond  the  limits  of  our  own  society,  beyond 
the  limits  of  our  own  country ;  and  we  trust  that  even  yet 
neither  their  work  nor  yours  is  wholly  accomplished.  We 
trust,  that,  long  after  both  you  and  we  are  gone  to  render 
up  our  last  account,  your  spirit,  in  the  record  of  what  you 
have  here  spoken,  will  be  still  active  in  the  great  cause  of 
Christ  and  of  human  improvement,  to  which  you  have  de- 
voted your  life.  The  only  regret  we  feel,  when  looking 
back  upon  the  period  of  your  connection  with  us,  is,  that  we 
have  not  profited  as  we  ought  to  have  done  by  the  privi- 
leges we  have  enjoyed ;  that  we  have  not  become  spiritual, 
and  superior  to  the  world,  devoted  to  duty,  as  you  have 
labored  to  make  us.  We  pray  God  to  forgive  us  for  our 
deficiencies,  and  to  make  your  teachings  more  effectual  to 
the  generations  that  are  to  come  after  us  than  they  have 
been  to  us  and  to  our  own. 

"  We  feel  gratified  by  the  suggestion,  that  your  public 
labors  may  not'  wholly  cease  ;  and  that  you  may  not  only 
speak  again  to  us,  but  that  it  is  possible  you  may  become 
active  in  some  other  sphere  of  usefulness.  Amidst  what- 
ever circumstances  the  course  of  God's  providence  may 
place  you,  we  doubt  not  that  your  influence  will  be  elevat- 
ing and  improving  ;  and  that  we  shall  always  witness  and 
share  its  effects  with  thankfulness,  seeking  such  personal 
and  more  immediate  intercourse  with  you  as  our  relative 
positions  may  permit  and  authorize,  and  looking  to  you 
at  all  times,  as  to  a  Christian  pastor  and  spiritual  friend 

"  It  is,  we  know,  a  satisfaction  to  you,  as  it  is  to  us,  thai 
you  do  not  leave  us  alone,  but  that  we  remain  under  the 
ministrations  of  the  able  and  devoted  pastor  who  has  been 
so  long  associated  with  you.     We  pray,  for  your  sake,  as 


316  THE    MIMISTRV    AND    LITKRATURE. 

well  as  for  our  own,  that  his  health  may  be  fully  restoreo, 
and  that  his  services,  such  as  you  have  yourself  been  ac- 
customed to  witness  and  share  them,  may  be  yet  many 
years  continued  to  us  and  to  our  children.  We  can  desire 
nothing  better  than  such  fidelity  and  devotedness  as  his, 
except  a  corresponding  faithfulness  on  our  own  part  to  im- 
prove by  them. 

"  In  conclusion,  we  would  invoke  on  you  the  blessings 
you  have  so  often  besought  for  us,  adding,  for  the  sake  of 
the  cause  of  Christianity  and  human  improvement,  our 
prayers  that  your  strength  and  health  may  be  increased,  and 
that  your  faculties  may  be  preserved  unimpaired  to  a  re- 
mote and  happy  old  age. 

"  On  behalf  of  the  proprietors  and  the  congregation  of 
Berry  Street  Church, 

"  Samuel  Greele,  Chairman. 

"  George  S.  Hillakd,  Proprietors'*  Clerk.'''* 

In  proportion  as  the  ties  were  gradually  loosened 
which  bound  Dr.  Channing  to  the  Federal  Street  Soci- 
ety, and  as  his  indefatigable  colleague  became,  by  well- 
earned  influence,  peculiarly  the  pastor  of  the  congre- 
gation, he  felt  himself  more  free  to  devote  his  time  and 
thoughts  to  larger  interests  of  truth  and  philanthropy. 
In  fact,  for  many  years  a  change  had  been  slowly  taking 
place  in  his  views  of  the  relative  importance  of  different 
branches  of  ministerial  labor.  In  his  early  professional 
life,  he  had  been,  as  we  have  seen,  most  devoted  to  his 
pastoral  duties,  and  ill  health,  more  than  any  other  cause, 
had  compelled  him  to  limit  his  exertions  in  that  direction. 
But  experience,  at  length,  suggested  to  him  the  ques- 
tion, whether  his  enforced  life  of  secluded  meditation  had 
not,  on  the  whole,  been  more  serviceable  to  his  fellow 
men  than  one  of  more  constant  social   Intercourse  and 


DUTIES  OF  THE  MINISTER.  317 

practical  activity  would  have  been.  The  course  of  his 
reflections  may  be  partially  indicated  by  giving  the  fol- 
lowing extracts  from  one  of  his  unfinished  manuscripts  :  — 

"  The  several  duties  of  the  minister  may  be  laid  down 
easily  ;  but  it  is  not  so  easy  to  establish  the  relative  rank  of 
his  various  offices.  Some  would  make  the  minister  a  stu- 
dent, some  a  visiting  pastor,  some  a  public  speaker.  Un- 
doubtedly, the  same  rule  cannot  be  applied  to  all.  Different 
modes  of  labor  are  appropriate  to  different  men,  and  to  dif- 
ferent conditions  of  society.  Still  the  great  idea  of  the  Chris- 
tian minister  is  plain.  He  is  to  be  a  teacher ;  and,  in  order 
that  he  may  teach,  he  must  learn.  His  peculiar  work  is,  to 
quicken  the  community  by  the  promulgation  of  exalting 
truth.  The  acquisition  of  this  truth,  and  the  clear,  powerful 
expression  of  it,  are,  then,  his  chief  labors  ;  and  these  imply 
much  solitary  thought.  He  is  to  be  a  thinker.  To  this  se- 
vere toil  his  life  is  to  be  mainly  given.  Of  course,  he  is  to 
preach,  converse,  counsel.  But  the  sermon  which  he 
preaches  in  an  hour  may  be  the  result  of  months  and  years 
of  meditation.  The  truth  which  he  utters  in  a  sentence 
may  have  cost  him  long,  laborious,  exhausdng  research.  If, 
indeed,  a  minister  is  satisfied  to  retail  the  views  with  which 
he  commenced  his  professional  career, —  if  he  can  bear  to 
preach  over  and  over  his  first  sermons,  —  he  need  pass  but 
little  time  in  his  secluded  study.  But  such  a  man  is  unfit  fcr 
his  profession.  No  one  is  worthy  to  be  a  minister  of  God, 
who  does  not  earnestly  aspire  to  leave  beneath  him  the  crude 
conceptions  and  errors  of  his  early  years,  and  to  ascend  into 
purer,  brighter,  serener  realms  of  thought.  Only  private 
meditation  can  lead  him  up  to  worthy  conceptions  of  the 
great  realities  of  the  spiritual  life.  His  chief  work  he  must 
do  alone.  He  must  live  much  in  his  study,  and  live  there, 
not  as  a  hypocrite  and  cheat,  amusing  himself  with  light 
reading,  whilst  the  world  considers  him  a  student,  but  in  good 
27*  ' 


318  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

faith,  tasking  his  powers  for  the  discovery  and  forcible  exhi- 
bition of  truth.  The  study  is  too  often  an  idle  place,  and  yet 
a  faithful  student  is  the  most  laborious  man  on  earth.  These 
views  are  important,  because  the  age  is  so  much  an  out-door 
age.     There  is  little  solitary  thought  anywhere. 

"  Great  stress  is  laid  upon  what  is  sometimes  called  pas- 
toral duty,  on  the  personal  intercourse,  that  is  to  say,  of  the 
minister  with  his  congregation  ;  but  much  visiting  may  be  to 
a  minister,  as  to  others,  a  species  of  dissipation.  Profitable 
conversation  is  a  fruit  of  meditation,  the  overflow  of  a  full 
heart  and  mind.  To  do  good,  as  he  goes  from  house  to 
house,  a  minister  should  carry  with  him  living  thoughts,  which 
have  been  matured  by  vigorous  inquiry,  which  belong  to  a 
system  of  truth  for  ever  enlarging  and  gaining  strength  in 
his  mind.  No  one  believes  more  than  I  do  in  the  benefits  of 
free  conference  between  the  minister  and  his  parishioners ; 
but  their  intercourse  should  be  truly  a  conference,  —  the  sug- 
gestion of  awakening  ideas,  which  open  the  inward  experi- 
ence. Such  conversation  requires,  above  all  things,  that  a 
minister  should  rid  himself  of  the  technicalities  and  formal 
restraints  of  his  profession,  and  exciiange  mere  traditional 
notions  of  religion  for  fresh,  clear,  profound  views.  Where 
a  minister  does  not  lead  a  life  of  thought,  it  is  to  be  feared, 
that,  as  a  visitor,  he  will  become  a  gossip  ;  and  a  religious 
gossip  is  no  more  profitable  than  any  other.  To  tell  reli- 
gious news  may  do  in  its  season  and  place  ;  but  to  fill  up  any 
considerable  portion  of  life  with  it  is  a  sad  waste  of  power, 
and  a  minister  should  respect  his  function  too  highly  to  spend 
his  hours  in  such  enfeebling  talk. 

"  It  is  sometimes  said,  that  a  minister  does  more  by  win- 
ning the  love  of  his  people  than  by  hard  study,  because  he 
thus  secures  an  access  to  their  hearts,  which  no  mere  intel- 
lectual power  could  give.  A  minister  should,  indeed,  be 
loved  ;  but  this  scntimont  should  be  a  moral,  rather  than  a  per- 
sonal sentiment.     It  should  be  a  respect  for  his  high  virtues, 


DUTIES    OF    THE    BIINISTER.  319 

a  trust  in  his  uncompromising  fidelity,  a  grateful  sense  of 
his  devoted,  conscientious  labors  for  a  glorious  end,  more 
than  an  attachment  growing  out  of  private  syiiTpathies.  Re- 
spectful confidence,  founded  on  the  recognition  of  consistent 
principle,  is  better  than  affection.  The  minister  must  be- 
ware of  an  intercourse  with  his  congregation  which  flatters 
their  self-love  and  endears  him  as  a  partial  friend.  The 
sympathetic  minister  may  fail  to  be  the  faithful  spiritual 
guide.  The  only  sure  ground  for  a  man  to  stand  upon  is 
elevation  and  purity  of  character.  Popularity,  founded  on 
individual  sympathies,  has  no  certain  permanence. 

"  It  is  said,  that,  in  proportion  as  a  minister  is  loved,  he  is 
heard  with  profit.  Is  this  so  ?  Are  the  most  amiable  min- 
isters, who  are  ever  welcome  companions,  generally  found 
to  be  the  most  efficient  ?  Many  men  promote  social  kind- 
ness, and  keep  up  a  good  understanding  among  their  hearere, 
who  touch  no  deep  spring,  give  no  powerful  impulse.  Love 
of  the  teacher  is,  at  the  best,  but  a  tottering  foundation  for 
religious  principle.  Truth  should  be  heard,  not  for  the  sake 
of  him  who  utters  it,  but  in  its  own  right.  It  should  come  to 
men  in  its  own  majestic  authority,  and  not  under  the  patron- 
age of  a  beloved  preacher.  The  minister  who  serves  us  is 
he  who  aids  us  to  gain  convictions  which  will  endure  when 
the  very  remembrance  of  him  shall  have  passed  away, — 
principles  upon  which  we  may  build  for  ever.  The  kind  of 
attachment  which  makes  a  people  acquiesce  without  inquiry 
in  his  opinions  is  the  last  which  a  minister  should  desire. 
He  should  wish  his  hearers  to  love  truth  infinitely  better  than 
they  do  him.  Candid,  earnest,  deliberate,  respectful  atten- 
tion to  his  views  is  the  utmost  he  should  look  for. 

"  There  are  peculiar  dangers  which  attend  the  minister 
who  wishes  to  make  himself  useful  by  being  loved.  The 
very  effort  to  win  affection  is  a  hazardous  one  ;  it  may  in- 
jure simplicity  of  character,  and  mingle  calculation  with  the 
desire  of  doing  good,  till  natural,  genuine,  spontaneous  sym- 


3C0  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITF.nATURE. 

patli)'  is  vitiated  and  impaired.  Tliere  is  a  temptation,  too, 
to  stoup  from  tlie  true  dignity  of  the  ministerial  office  by  a 
dread  oi  giving  offence  or  causing  pain.  No  quality  is  more 
needed  m  the  Christian  minister  than  moral  independence. 
Fidehty  to  his  convictions  is  infinitely  more  important  than 
wmning  manners.  His  highest  work  is,  not  to  echo  public 
opinion,  out  to  bear  testimony  to  great' principles  which  do  not 
exen  tlioii  rightful  sway  over  men's  minds,  —  to  teach  what 
Ihoise  around  him  fail  in,  or  are  slow  to  recognize, —  to  oppose 
more  tarnestly  what  is  unchristian  in  proportion  as  it  is  con- 
firmed by  iiadition,  prejudice,  usage.  Hostility  to  prevalent 
evils  ii!  the  viue  position  for  the  minister.  This  calm,  deter- 
mined, unwafcring  loyalty  to  truth  finds  a  snare  in  the  fear 
of  breaking  the  ties  of  friendship.  Thus  the  minister,  in 
aiming  to  gain  attachment,  may  sacrifice  true  honor. 

"  There  is  gieat  danger  in  seeking  influence.  How  many, 
for  fear  ot  sacvificinc;  it,  do  little  or  nothing  ?  In  order 
to  keep  it,  itiey  refuse  to  exert  it,  and  thus  make  it  useless. 
The  truest  infiuence  comes  unsought.  The  best  way  of 
gaining  it  is  to  act  without  calculation  or  solicitude,  accord- 
ing to  our  Clearest  convictions,  and  to  leave  our  lives  to 
speak  for  themselves.  Of  course,  we  shall  often  be  misrep- 
resented ;  but,  m  the  long  run,  the  true  principles  from 
which  a  man  acts  become  plain.  Confidence  in  us  will  be 
sooner  or  later  established,  if  we  are  faithful  to  the  right. 
A  young  minister  sometimes  receives  a  confidence  which 
he  has  not  earned,  and,  consequently,  is  compelled  to  pass 
through  an  after  season  of  neglect.  He  retains  only  the  in- 
fluence which  he  hus  honestly  earned  by  the  exercise  of  his 
best  powers.  Patient  fidelity  in  seeking  truth  may  win  him 
firmer  friends  than  much  visiting.  An  invigorated  intellect 
and  a  disciplined  spirit  make  themselves  silently  felt,  and 
command  a  respect  which  is  enduring. 

"These  remarks  are  the  more  important,  because,  in  this 
cotmtry,  the  dependence  of  the  minister  on  the  good-will  of 


DUTIES    OF    THE    MINISTER.  321 

his  congregation  strongly  tempts  him  to  make  himself  agree- 
able to  his  hearers.  If  he  yield  to  this  temptation,  he  is 
lost.  If  the  desire  of  pleasing  takes  the  place^f  aspiration 
after  truth,  the  dignity  of  his  mind  is  gone.  We  never 
should  enter  into  communion  with  our  fellow-men  with  the 
view  of  being  agreeable  as  our  chief  end.  We  enter  no 
circle  without  taking  the  chance  of  encountering  opinions 
and  feelings  which  we  ought  not  to  reciprocate,  or  of  being 
called  to  utter  what  may  give  pain  or  offence.  Our  first 
purpose  should  be,  to  hold  fast  to  truth  and  justice,  however 
we  may  fail  of  sympathy ;  and  this  is  especially  the  duty  of 
the  minister,  whose  great  function  is  to  bear  witness  to  the 
truth.  The  minister  is  only  degraded  by  his  profession,  if 
he  seeks  transitory  approbation  by  accommodating  truth  to 
men's  passions  and  prejudices.  The  whole  power  of  his  of- 
fice lies  in  his  moral  self-subsistence  ;  yet  he  is  tempted  to 
veer  with  every  change  of  popular  opinion.  Let  him  there- 
fore live  much  by  himself,  that  he  may  learn  to  stand  firm 
among  his  fellow-men  ;  let  him  dwell  habitually  in  the  re- 
gion of  everlasting  truths,  that  he  may  not  be  the  sport  of  the 
caprices  of  the  day. 

"  It  will  not,  of  course,  be  supposed  that  by  these  remarks 
It  is  meant  that  a  minister  is  to  be  unsocial,  repulsive,  un- 
conciliating,  severe.  He  should  not  make  his  study  a  dun- 
geon, or  solitary  cell,  where  his  affections  become  blighted. 
He  is  to  leave  it,  bound  by  new  ties  to  his  race  through  the 
great  truths  upon  which  he  has  there  meditated.  Let  him 
come  forth  to  share  in  all  the  innocent  joy  of  his  fellow- 
creatures,  with  a  heart  widely  open  to  whatever  is  beautiful 
around  him,  — to  the  loveliness  of  childhood,  the  buoyant 
spirits  of  youth,  the  graces  and  excellences  of  mature  life,  the 
venerableness  of  age.  Let  him  express  simply  the  real  in- 
terest he  takes  in  those  for  whose  highest  good  he  lives  ;  and 
he  may  thus  find  that  the  overflow  of  his  spontaneous  feelings 
will  win  him  as  much  true,  deep  love,  as  if  he  were  to  de- 
vote the  most  of  his  time  f.o  social  intercourse." 


323  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

It  must  by  no  means  be  understood,  from  there  ex 
tracts,  that  Dr.  Channing  held  pastoral  duties  in  low  es 
ieem.     He  considered   them  secondary  in  importance^ 
indeed,  to  the  pursuit  of  truth  and  spiritual  culture,  but 
itill  of  high  obligation.      To  a  friend  he  wrote,  — 

"I  think  your  influence  over  your  people  will  be  exceei.'- 
ingly  diminished,  if  you  have  no  private  intercourse  witr 
them.  I  doubt  whether  a  minister  can  preach  as  he  ought, 
can  write  such  sermons  as  a  people  need,  if  he  never  sees 
them  but  on  Sunday." 

The  thoughts  expressed  in  the  foregoing  extracts  do 
embody,  however,  though  in  a  hasty  and  imperfect  man- 
ner. Dr.  Clianning's  views  of  his  own  special  duties  as  a 
minister.      This  will  appear  from  the  following  letter  :  — 

"■Jan.  23,  1828.*  A  hoarseness  has  closed  my  mouth 
for  two  Sundays,  and  I  know  not  when  liberty  of  speech  will 
be  given  me.  Happily,  the  spirit  is  free,  and  I  try  to  turn 
my  solitude  to  some  account.  I  have  been  refreshed  to-day 
by  a  visit  from  our  friend  Tuckerman,  who  seems  to  be,  and 
is,  happier  in  visiting  the  hovels  of  the  poor,  than  any  spoiled 
child  of  fortune  in  haunting  the  saloons  of  taste,  rank,  and 
wealth.  He  enjoys  his  poor,  and  I  enjoy  his  power  of  virtue 
in  extracting  from  such  materials  such  rare  happiness.  Thus 
virtue  is  a  spreading  good  indeed.  Next  to  my  own  func- 
tion, I  am  tempted  to  think  his  the  best. 

"  And  what  is  my  function  ?  Striving  humbly,  and  not 
impatiently  striving,  to  penetrate  the  clouds  which  encom- 
pass us,  and  to  catch  some  new  glimpses  of  the  Uncreated 
Light,  the  Infinite  Beauty,  the  Perfection  of  the  Parent  Mind, 
and  of  the  Human  Soul  ;  and  through  this  to  understand  my- 

*  To  Orville  Dewey,  D.  D. 


HIS    FUNCTION.  323 

self  and  other  beings, —  to  turn  all  things  to  their  true  and  no- 
blest ends.  What  I  have  lately  published  was  meant  to  be 
a  trial  of  the  sympathy  which  I  might  hope  fiw. 

"  When  I  told  you  that  my  last  sermon  had  not  answered 
my  hopes,  I  did  not  mean  to  say  that  it  had  not  been  talked 
of  enough,  but  that  it  had  not  excited  the  kind  of  interest 
which  I  have  wished.  Still  I  do  not  complain,  or  for  a  mo- 
ment waver  in  my  hope.  I  blame  as  much,  to  say  the 
least,  the  imperfection  of  the  writer,  as  the  want  of  suscepti* 
bility  in  the  readers.  I  believe  that  the  seed  has  been  sown 
in  some  minds  where  it  will  take  root,  and  this  fully  satisfies 
and  recompenses  me.  But  there  has  been  no  general  re- 
sponse to  the  sentiments,  or  rather,  a  general  indifference  ; 
so  that  to  hear  even  of  a  few  to  whom  they  are  living 
truths  is  a  great  encouragement ;  and  my  friends  do  me  good, 
when  they  let  me  know  of  such  cases.  My  own  opinion  of 
the  value  of  what  I  publish  is  not  at  all  affected  by  the  gen- 
eral reception  it  meets  with ;  but  if  no  souls  are  reached, 
there  is  cause  of  distrust." 

The  rare  blending  of  conscientiousness  and  humility, 
independence  and  self-distrust,  firm  faith  and  aspiration, 
so  simply  manifested  in  this  estimate  of  his  intellectual 
function,  pervaded  the  writer's  character,  and  determined 
the  course  of  his  literary  life.  Without  the  addition  of  a 
word  of  comment,  the  following  series  of  letters  will  open 
to  the  reader  the  hidden  springs  of  Dr.  Channing's  con- 
duct as  an  author,  and  reveal,  as  no  description  could, 
the  pure  disinterestedness  by  which  he  was  animated. 

"  May  14,  1842.*  It  is  not  unfrequent  for  an  author  tc 
be  praised,  even  admired,  whilst  he  feels  that  the  view  of 
his  work  most  interesting  to  himself  has  been  seized  by  very 

•  To  Ferris  Pell,  Esq. 


324  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

few  of  his  hearers.  He  is  praised,  but  not  understood.  I 
remember  a  minister  who,  on  being  deprived  of  a  partic- 
ular hearer,  expressed  great  sorrow  ;  '  For,'  said  he,  '  I  al- 
ways felt,  when  he  was  present,  that  one  of  the  congregation 
understood  me.'  I  have  had  some  sad  proofs  of  the  obtuse- 
ness  of  too  many  of  my  readers,  in  the  kind  of  criticism 
passed  on  me.  Some  people  have  groaned  at  my  deserting 
my  profession,  and  becoming  ?l  politician.  Some  wise  ones 
even  intimated  that  I  had  an  eye  on  a  seat  in  Congress ! 
Things  of  this  kind  do  not  discourage  me,  but  show  what  a 
d'xrkness  surrounds  us  on  every  side.  I  thank  you  for  un- 
derstanding me.  Not  that  you  are  the  only  discerner  of  my 
spirit;  others  have  done  me  the  same  favor;  and,  indeed,  I 
am  persuaded  that  there  is  an  increasing  tendency  to  see  the 
application  of  moral  and  religious  truths,  of  the  highest  prin- 
ciples of  Christianity,  to  political  affairs,  to  the  relations  of 
nations,  and  to  all  civil  and  social  arrangements  and  insti- 
tutions. 

"  As  to  what  you  say  of  my  profession,  it  is  but  too  true. 
Still,  ministers  must  not  be  judged  too  hardly.  There  is 
much  truth  in  the  old  proverb,  'Like  people,  like  priest.' 
The  two  act  on  one  another,  and  carry  on  the  work  of  mu- 
tual assimilation  ;  and  we  must  not  wonder  if  the  people,  be- 
ing the  immense  majority,  should  act  to  most  effect.  Un- 
happily, both  start  with  the  notion  that  the  priest  is  not  a 
man,  —  that  his  holiness  is  something\prq/es5iona/,  not /m- 
7nan,  —  that  he  is  to  be  good  for  the  sake  of  his  office,  and  in 
the  way  which  his  office  prescribes.  He  is  to  keep  apart  from 
men,  from  common  life,  to  be  '  religious,'  which  means  some- 
thing different  from  being  perfect  in  spirit  and  life,  perfect 
in  common  matters  and  evcry-day  relations.  The  errone- 
ous views  which  doomed  the  Catholic  clergy  to  celibacy  are 
far  from  being  banished  from  Protestantism.  The  minister 
is  too  holy  for  business  or  politics.  He  is  to  preach  creeds 
and    abstractions.     He   may  preach    ascetic    notions    about 


ESTIMATE    OF    HIS    WRITINGS.  325 

pleasures  and  amusements ;  for  his  official  holiness  has  a 
tinge  of  asceticism  in  it,  and  people  hear  patiently  what  it  is 
imderstood  they  will  not  practise.  But  if  he  'tjome  down,' 
as  it  is  called,  from  these  heights,  and  assail  in  sober  earnest 
deep-rooted  abuses,  respectable  vices,  inhuman  institutions 
or  arrangements,  and  unjust  means  of  gain,  which  interest, 
pride,  and  habit  have  made  dear,  and  next  to  universal,  the 
people  who  exact  from  him  official  holiness  are  shocked, 
offended.  '  He  forgets  his  sphere.'  Not  only  the  people, 
but  his  brother-ministers,  are  apt  to  think  this ;  and  they  do 
so  not  mainly  from  a  timeserving  spirit,  not  from  dread  of 
offending  the  people,  —  though  this  motive  too  often  op- 
erates, —  but  chiefly  from  false  notions  about  the  ministry 
its  comprehensive  purpose,  its  true  spirit,  which  is  an  all- 
embracing  humanity.  Ministers  in  general  are  narrow- 
minded  and  superstitious,  rather  than  servile.  Their  faults 
are  those  of  the  times,  and  they  are  more  free  from  these, 
perhaps,  than  most  of  the  people.  And  are  they  not  becom- 
ing less  and  less  ministers,  and  more  and  more  men  ?  " 

"  Boston,  July  21,  1828.*  Dear  Sir  :  —  Your  letter  gave 
me  great  pleasure.  Many  of  your  expressions  of  approba- 
tion I  am  compelled,  by  my  self-knowledge,  to  limit,  perhaps 
I  should  say,  to  disclaim.  But,  whilst  I  question  the  sound- 
ness of  the  estimate  which  many  make  of  my  labors,  I  do 
not  the  less  rejoice  in  the  proofs  which  occasionally  come  to 
me,  that  what  I  have  written  has  been  quickening  and  exalt- 
ing to  some  of  my  fellow-beings.  1  have  a  deep  conviction 
that  Christianity  was  intended  to  communicate  energy  and 
elevation  far  beyond  what  we  yet  witness,  and  that  our  na- 
ture was  made,  and  is  fitted,  for  the  sublimest  influences  c: 
this  religion.  If  I  have  helped  to  spread  this  conviction,  —  if  I 
have  awakened  in  any  soul  a  consciousness  of  its  powers  and 

*  To  the  Rev.  George  Armstrong. 
VOL.   ri.  28 


326  THE    MIN'ISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

greatness,  —  if  I  have  thrown  any  light  on  the  grandeur  of 
God's  purposes  towards  his  rational  creatures,  —  if  I  have 
done  any  thing  to  expose  the  monstrous  error,  that  curbs  and 
chains  are  the  indispensable  and  best  means  of  educating  the 
individual  and  the  race,  —  or  if  I  have  vindicated  for  the 
mind  that  freedom  which  is  the  chief  element  and  condition 
of  its  growth,  then  I  have  accomplished  the  end  to  which 
1  have  devoted  my  powers. 

"  I  thank  you  most  sincerely  for  encouraging  me  to  hope 
that  I  have  not  been  wholly  unsuccessful.  I  feel  my  poor 
labors  —  for  I  cannot  estimate  them  very  highly  —  recom- 
pensed beyond  measure  by  such  language  as  you  have  used. 
You  have  given  me  a  kind  of  approbation  which  I  may  en- 
joy without  injury  to  my  virtue,  for  your  letter  breathes 
sympathy  much  more  than  it  expresses  praise.  I  thank  you, 
and  I  thank  God,  for  this.  Truth,  though  not  responded  to, 
is  still  truth ;  but  how  are  we  strengthened  and  encouraged, 
when,  having  sent  it  abroad,  it  comes  back  to  us  in  tones 
which  show  that  it  has  penetrated  the  inmost  souls  of  some, 
at  least,  who  have  heard  it ! " 

"  Axigxtst  27,  1828.*  Your  letters  do  not  make  me  vain, 
but  thankful,  by  assuring  me  that  I  am  not  living  for  nothing, 
—  that  I  even  give  strength  and  elevation  to  minds  like  yours. 
I  am  so  tempted  to  think  lightly  of  whatever  I  send  forth, 
that  I  need  such  testimonies  to  sustain  my  courage." 

"  Boston,  March  30,  1829.1  My  dear  Mrs.  Baillie  :  — 
I  thank  you  from  the  heart  for  your  letter.  Expressions  of 
interest  in  my  writings,  from  the  enlightened  and  virtuous, 
arc  a  recompense  for  which  I  cannot  be  sufficiently  grateful 
to  Providence,  and  which  I  need  as  an  encouragement.  I 
am  naturally  inclined  to  self-distrust.  I  do  not  know  that 
my  case  is  singular  ;  but,  whilst  I  have  the  deepest  convic- 

*  To  Mrs.  Felicia  Hemans.  t  To  Mrs.  Joanna  Baillie. 


SELF-DISTRUST.  327 

lion  of  the  truth  and  greatness  of  my  leading  views,  and  look 
lo  them  as  powerful  means  of  quickening  and  elevating  the 
human  mind,  I  am  so  dissatisfied  with  my  expreesion  of  them, 
that  I  sometimes  hesitate  about  scndins  my  writings  to  my 
friends,  after  they  have  gr:ne  through  the  press.  My  princi- 
pal encouragement  is,  that  the  truths  which  I  have  published 
seem  to  have  found  their  way  to  the  hearts  of  some  young 
men  of  fine  powers  and  a  noble  spirit,  who,  as  I  trust,  are  to 
do  much  more  than  myself.  I  have  for  many  years  had  a 
deep  feeling  of  the  present  degraded  state  of  moral  and  re- 
ligious science.  My  desire  and  hope  has  been,  to  awaken  in 
others  the  want  of  something  purer  and  more  ennobling. 
My  success  has  certainly  exceeded  my  expectation,  but  has 
done  little  to  remove  the  consciousness  of  deficiency.  I  have 
written  this  that  you  may  understand  the  good  which  has 
been  done  me  by  sympathy  on  your  side  of  the  ocean." 

"  Boston,  March  30,  1S29.*  Great  public  favor  is  a  great 
snare.  We  are  in  danger  of  an  excessive  sensitiveness  to 
reputation,  and  of  losing,  through  this  blighting  selfishness, 
the  very  loftiness  of  spirit  through  which  reputation  is  to  be 
preserved.  I  wonder  if  one  cause  of  the  decline  of  great 
reputations  be  not  the  tendency  of  fame  to  distract  and  nar- 
row the  mind,  by  the  selfish  elations  and  the  selfish  anxieties 
which  it  alternately  engenders.  I  feel  these  to  be  the  perils 
of  authorship  in  my  own  case.  I  want  approbation,  for  I  am 
by  nature  self-distrusting  ;  and  yet  I  am  not  sure  that  the 
little  simplicity  and  disinterestedness  which  I  may  possess  are 
at  all  aided  by  it.  In  truth,  life  is  throughout  a  trial,  and 
wisely  made  such  ;  for  through  trial  moral  power  is  called 
forth,  and  our  dependence  on  a  higher  power  strengthened. 
AVe  aim  to  do  good  ;  and  the  very  good  which  we  do  may, 
by  a  selfish  reference,  become  to  ourselves  an  evil.  We 
would  lay  open  whatever  is  pure  and  elevated  in  our  own 

*  To  Mrs   Felicia  Hemans 


328  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITEKaTUKE. 

spirits,  that  others  may  commune  with  and  participate  in  It 
and  the  very  sympathy  of  otiiers  may  make  us  idols  to  our- 
selves, and  render  us  unworthy  of  it." 

"  Boston^  June  8th,  1830.*  You  needed  no  apology  for 
writing  to  me.  Believe  me,  I  have  fewer  gratifications  than 
5he  proofs  which  are  occasionally  afforded  me  of  an  interest 
taken  by  intelligent  and  distant  strangers  in  what  I  have  pub- 
lished. The  voice  of  sympathy  coming  to  me  across  the 
ocean  is  most  welcome.  It  gives  me  reason  to  hope  that  I 
have  reached  and  set  forth  some  great,  everlasting,  universal 
truths.  This  recompense  is  the  most  delightful,  because  un- 
looked  for,  and  would  give  me  unmixed  pleasure,  could  I 
escape  from  the  consciousness  that  it  is  disproportioned  to 
my  efforts.  It  is  true,  that  I  have  aimed,  as  you  say,  to  pro- 
mote the  spirit  of  Individuality.  It  grieves  me  to  hear  the 
multitude  repeating  perpetually  the  deafening  cries  and 
watchwords  of  party.  It  grieves  me  that  so  few  speak 
from  personal  conviction,  that  men  despair  of  doing  any 
thing  except  by  banding  together  in  sects,  and  that  even 
truth  has  caught  a  sectarian  tone.  Your  letter  was  gratify- 
ing to  me,  by  the  freedom  with  which  you  dissented  from 
some  of  my  opinions.  I  differ  so  often  from  myself,  that 
commendation  which  comes  to  me  without  some  qualification 
wants  one  mark  of  value." 

"  Boston,  March  8th,  1833.t  My  Dear  Sir  :  —  I  smiled 
a  little  at  your  solicitude  about  the  reception  your  article 
would  find  with  me.  It  will  be  relieved,  when  I  tell  you 
that  I  have  not  read  it.  |  You  will  not  infer  from  this  that 
you  have  been  neglected.  I  have  felt,  for  some  time,  that 
the  less  I  read  about  myself  the  better.     The  most  laudatory 

"  To  Miss  Emily  Tnylor,  New  Biickenliam. 

t  To  Orville  Dewey,  D.  D. 

\  Review  of  his  writings,  in  the  Christian  Examiner. 


IMPARTIALITY.  329 

arlicle  on  my  writings  ever  published,  as  I  suppose,  appeared 
in  the  Westminster  Review,  two  or  three  years  ago,  and  I 
did  not  read  it,  though  the  number  containing  it  was  more 
than  once  in  my  hands.  The  vindication  of  me,  in  the 
North  American,  from  Hazlitt's  abuse  in  the  Edinburgh,  I 
have  never  read.  I  am  always  gratified  by  a  few  lines  in  a 
letter  or  newspaper,  showing  me  that  my  writings  are  spread- 
ing, and  are  producing  their  effects  on  one  and  another  mind. 
I  read  such  notices  now  and  then  ;  for  my  tendency  is  to 
discouragement,  to  depressing  views  of  whatever  I  do.  None 
are  more  grateful  for  a  word  of  heartfelt  approbation  ;  but  I 
can  dispense  with  any  thing  more.  So  much  for  my  inter- 
est in  laudatory  criticisms.  As  to  those  which  expose  my 
defects,  I  am  glad  to  receive  them  from  fair-minded   mvn. 

Accordingly,  I  desired ,  when  reading  your  article, 

to  extract  the  fault-finding  passages;  and  you  can  judge 
how  they  affected  me,  when  I  tell  you,  that,  on  finishing  the 
extracts,  I  asked,  '  Is  this  all  ?  ' 

"  You  say  something  of  the  policy  of  finding  fault,  as  a 
proof  of  impartiality.  I  reply, —  without  the  slightest  rcfci-- 
ence  to  my  own  case, —  that  here,  as  elsewhere,  policy  ami 
truth  are  one.  The  mischief  done  by  seeming  to  give  u])  an 
able  advocate  of  a  cause  to  the  violence  of  its  opponents  out- 
weighs all  the  benefits  of  a  calculating  impartiality.  Nothing 
injures  a  cause  more  than  the  appearance  of  weakness  in  its 
friends  ;  and  whilst  this  is  no  reason  for  assuming,  as  is  so 
common,  an  over-confident  tone,  it  is  a  reason  for  not  yield- 
ing an  inch  of  ground,  beyond  what  truth  demands,  to  our 
adversaries.  In  what  I  have  said  above,  as  to  my  not  read- 
ing much  which  is  written  about  myself,  I  have  given  you  a 
piece  of  secret  history,  known  to  no  other  person  ;  and  which 
I  wish  not  to  be  known,  because  I  should  be  sorry  that  my 
eulogists  should  think  me  ungrateful,  because  I  earnestly  de- 
sire such  favorable  notices  as  will  spread  my  works,  be- 
cause the  true  state  of  my  mind  on  the  subject  could  not  be 
28* 


330  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

understood,  and  because,  in  my  progress,  I  may  come  to 
find  benefit  in  what  I  do  not  read  now." 

"  Boston,  May  5,  1834.*  The  truth  is,  I  have  been  an 
author  by  accident,  not  by  profession  or  of  set  purpose. 
Most  that  I  have  pubHshed  was  written  without  a  thought  of 
pubHcation,  and  nothing  was  written  to  appear  in  my  own 
name  ;  so  that  I  have  not  been  exposed,  in  a  great  degree, 
to  the  sensitiveness  which  cleaves  to  authorship.  I  never 
could  attach  much  importance  to  these  ahnost  fortuitous  pro- 
ductions. The  truths  which  1  have  insisted  on  seem  to  me, 
indeed,  infinitely  important, —  more  so  than  to  any  body 
else.  But  I  am  conscious  of  having  done  no  justice  to  them ; 
so  that  I  am  little  disposed  to  blame  those  who  differ  from 
me." 

"  Boston,  Jan.  19th,  1835.t  As  to  the  interest  you  take 
in  my  writings,  I  can  only  say  to  you,  what  I  have  often 
said,  that  the  reception  they  have  met  with  surprises  me.  I 
had  no  expectation  of  the  effect  they  have  pi'oduced.  I  am 
not,  on  this  account,  less  g»*'iteful  for  the  good  which  I  trust 
they  are  doing,  and  I  have  encouragements  to  labor,  without 
which  my  life  would  be  less  active  and  happy. 

"  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  have  discovered  inconsistencies 
in  my  last  volume.  |  When  I  engaged  to  publish  it,  I  in- 
tended to  rewrite  all  the  sermons ;  but  I  was  able  to  do  this 
only  in  the  case  of  the  first,  and  the  rest  were  printed  very 
much  as  they  were  delivered,  and  not  one  had  been  com- 
posed with  care." 

"  March,  1836.§     I  was  a  little  surprised  by  your  appli 
cation  in  behalf  of  a  good  duchess  in  the  heart  of  Germany 

*  To  Mrs.  Joanna  Baillio. 

t  To  the  Kev.  George  Armstrong. 

t  Tlie  Becoiid  volume  of  liis  Sermons. 

§  To  Ceo.  Ticknor,  Esq.,  Dresden,  Saxony. 


HIS    WRITINGS    IN    GERMANY.  331 

1  did  not  suppose  that  my  name  had  ever  been  heard  in  that 
country,  and  I  can  hardly  conceive  of  my  finding  much  fa- 
vor among  a  people  of  such  different  habits  of  tK&ught,  and 
whose  learned  men  and  men  of  genius  leave  me  so  very, 
very  far  behind.  However,  I  will  send  my  books  with 
pleasure.  I  know  they  contain  some  great  truths,  written, 
not  from  tradition,  but  from  deep  conviction,  from  the  depths 
of  my  soul,  —  may  I  not  say,  from  inspiration?  I  mean 
nothing  miraculous  ;  —  does  not  God  speak  in  us  all  ?  No 
one  does,  or  can,  see  the  imperfections  of  what  I  have  writ- 
ten as  I  do  myself.  But  in  the  '  earthen  vessel '  there  is 
still  a  heavenly  '  treasure.'  Of  this  I  am  sure.  I  will  there- 
fore send  my  books,  with  all  their  imperfections,  to  the 
duchess.  They  contain  principles  which  it  would  be  well 
for  dukes  and  duchesses  to  learn,  all  the  world  over;  and 
who  knows  but  that  I  may  give  to  one  in  high  station  a  new 
sympathy  with  his  or  her  fellow-creatures,  a  new  reverence 
for  humanity,  a  new  perception  of  the  nothingness  of  the  out- 
ward compared  with  the  inward  ?  I  live  in  hope ;  for  is  it 
not  the  will  of  God  that  all  men  shall  be  brought  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  truth  ^  " 

"  William  E.  Channing  respectfully  requests  the  Duchess 
of to  accept  the  books  now  forwarded.  He  has  under- 
stood  from  an  American  friend  residing  at  Dresden,  who 

has  communicated  with  Count ,  that  the  duchess   had 

expressed  a  desire  to  see  his  writings,  and  he  trusts  that  she 
will  do  him  the  honor  to  accept  from  him  such  as  he  can 
now  collect.  No  one  can  be  more  aware  than  himself  of  the 
imperfect  manner  in  which  he  has  unfolded  his  views  ;  but, 
having  entire  and  joyful  faith  in  the  great  and  life-giving 
truths  which  he  feels  himself  called  to  teach,  he  takes  pleas- 
ure in  sending  his  writings  to  any  who  may  be  disposed  to 
read  them,  and  especially  to  those  whose  high  station  gives 
them  peculiar  influence  over  the  minds  of  their  fellow-beings. 


832  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

Ele  begs  the  Duchess  of to  accept  his  assurances  of  re 

spect  and  his  sincere  wishes  for  her  happiness." 

"  William  E.  Channing  respectfully  asks  the  Duchess  of 
to  accept  an  address  delivered  by  him  on  a  subject 


which  has  excited  great  interest  and  much  philanthropic  exer- 
tion in  his  own  country.  Thanks  to  God,  these  efforts  have 
been  crowned  with  wonderful  success.  It  is  true,  we  havo 
yet  a  fearful  amount  of  intemperance  in  the  United  States  of 
America  ;  but  the  change  produced  in  the  habits  of  society  is 
most  beneficial.  No  attempt  at  moral  reform,  in  this  age 
of  benevolent  enthusiasm,  has  been  so  successful.  To  the 
philanthropist,  it  is  a  most  encouraging  thought,  that  the  vice 
which  has  been  thought  more  hopeless  than  any  other,  and 
which  does  more  than  all  others  to  degrade  the  laboring 
classes,  that  is,  the  majority  of  mankind,  may  be  arrested  by 
benevolent  effort.  We  learn,  that,  in  Sweden  and  Denmark, 
temperance  societies,  similar  to  ours,  are  fostered  by  govern- 
ment. We  of  republican  America,  who  look  on  less  popular 
institutions  with  jealousy,  do  yet  rejoice  when  we  find  sov- 
ereigns thus  becoming  the  parents  of  their  people.  It  will  be 
seen,  in  this  address,  how  gladly  we  welcome  good  reports 
of  the  progress  of  education  in  Germany.  A  new  impulse  is 
already  given,  from  that  country,  to  education  in  America. 
The  most  interesting  feature  in  our  age  is  a  calm,  deliberate 
faith  in  the  capability  of  human  progress.  Thus  the  friends 
of  humanity  arc  exerting  a  wider  influence  than  they  hoped. 
"The  author  received  with  much  sensibility  the  note  in 
which  the  duchess  acknowledges  the  receipt  of  the  volumes 
forwarded  by  him.  He  cannot  be  indifferent  to  expressicns 
of  approbation  from  persons  of  distinguished  rank,  bu  he 
would  be  unjust  to  himself,  were  he  not  to  say  that  his  great 
pleasure  on  such  occasions  arises  from  the  hope  that  ho  may 
do  something  towards  strengthening,  in  those  whom  God  has 
clothed  with  great  power,  an  interest  in  the  cause  of  human- 
ity, in  the  improvement  and  happiness  of  their  race." 


TOLERANCE.  333 

"  Sept.  18,  1839.*  My  dear  Sir:  —  I  cannot  deny  my- 
self the  pleasure  of  thanking  you  for  your  Rhymed  Plea  for 
Tolerance.  The  poem  was  already  in  my  librav^r;  but  I  am 
glad  to  add  a  copy  from  the  hand  of  the  author.  Some  have 
lioped  that  the  fiend  of  intolerance  was  expelled  for  ever 
from  the  more  enlightened  parts  of  Christendom  ;  but  new 
cases  of  possession  seem  to  multiply,  and  I  welcome  every 
friend  of  humanity  and  freedom  who  will  undertake  the  part 
of  exorcist. 

"  As  to  the  '  review  '  of  my  writings  which  you  refer  to, 
I  do  not  need  much  solace  under  it.  I  wish  I  could  ascribe 
my  indifference  about  such  matters  to  philosophy  or  religion. 
I  suppose  it  has  grown,  in  part,  out  of  my  exposure  for 
years  to  like  attacks.  But  there  is  a  deeper  cause.  My  na- 
ture inclines  me  to  keep  out  of  tlie  world,  and  to  interest  my- 
self in  subjects  more  than  in  persons.  This  tendency  I  have 
to  resist,  as  injurious  to  the  affections  and  to  Christian  sym- 
pathy. But  one  effect  of  it  is,  that  what  is  said  of  me  makes 
little  or  no  impression.  Indeed,  I  forget  it  in  a  few  days. 
There  are  some  who  can  '  forgive,  but  not  forget.'  The  dif- 
ficulty with  me  is,  that  I  cannot  forgive,  because  I  so  soon 
forget.  I  have  so  many  subjects  more  interesting  than  my 
opponent,  that  he  is  crowded  out  of  mind.  In  all  this  there 
is  no  virtue,  but  much  comfort. 

"  I  might  complain  of  my  reviewer,  that  he  has  seized  on 
my  first  work,  instead  of  the  last.  I  have  not  read  my  re- 
marks on  Milton  for  many  years  ;  but  I  can  easily  believe 
that  they  furnish  j)roofs  enough  of  bad  taste.  I  seem  to  my- 
self to  have  gained  a  good  deal,  in  the  power  of  expression, 
by  time  and  use.  My  last  Letter  on  Slavery,  I  believe,  is 
svritten  with  a  good  deal  more  of  freedom  and  purity  than 
my  earlier  productions.  However,  I  will  not  complain.  An 
adversary  must  be  expected  to  aim  at  the  weakest  side ;  and 

*  To  Jolin  Keii}  on,  Esq.,  London. 


834  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

perhaps  I  ought  to  feel  that  there  is  something  of  a  compli. 

ment   paid  me,   when   such    a   man  as  can    think 

me  so  dangerous  to  the  republic  of  letters  as  to  need  the  re- 
sistance of  his  veteran  arm.  To  be  serious,  reviews  trouble 
me  only  on  one  account.  They  may  deter  some  from  giv- 
ing attention  to  what  seem  to  me  great  truths.  I  do  think 
that  I  have  said  what  deserves  to  be  weighed.  No  one  can 
be  more  sensible  than  I  am  of  the  imperfect  way  in  which  I 
have  said  it." 

"  Newport,  June  15,  1841.*  Perhaps  you  are  not  aware 
how  entirely  I  have  abstained  from  all  efforts  to  give  circula- 
tion to  my  writings.  I  never  solicited,  however  indirectly, 
any  aid  in  "making  them  known.  As  a  general  rule,  I  have 
not  read  the  reviews  of  them.  Not  that  I  have  been  indif- 
ferent to  their  success,  but  because  I  have  felt  that  the  less  I 
thought  about  them,  when  once  given  to  the  world,  the  bet- 
ter." 

"  Boston,  Aug.  29,  1841.t  I  am  much  cheered  and 
strengthened  by  learning  that  my  testimony  to  truth  has  not 
been  in  vain,  that  it  is  responded  to  by  inquiring  and  serious 
minds  at  a  distance,  that  I  am  doing  something  for  the  cause 
of  God  and  man.  We  all  of  us  need  encouragement.  I 
certainly  do.  My  natural  tendency  is,  to  ascribe  little  im- 
portance to  what  I  do  ;  and  I  should  have  written  very  little, 
without  expressions  of  sympathy.  I  should  have  prized  the 
truth  which  I  hold  as  I  do  now,  but  I  should  have  questioned 
my  own  power  of  setting  it  forth  to  any  effect.  You  have 
done  me  good.  I  thank  you  for  your  encouraging  words. 
Still  more  I  thank  God,  who  strengthens  me  to  speak  to  the 
Bouls  of  my  fellow-creatures." 

It  thus  appears  how  incidentally  Dr.  Channing  entered 
*  To  George  G.  Channing,  Esq.         t  To  Wm.  Trevilcock,  Esq. 


HABITS    AS    A    WRITER.  335 

the  sphere  of  literature.  The  etJiical  element  was  the 
predominant  one  in  his  nature  ;  and  although  his  love  of 
beauty  was  too  strong,  independent  of  overiflastering  en- 
thusiasm, ever  to  have  permitted  him  to  be  a  mere  dilet- 
tante, it  was  not  so  active  as  to  make  him  dissatisfied, 
until  he  had  concentrated  into  a  symmetric  work  of  art 
his.  thought  ,and  emotion.  He  was  too  earnest  as  a 
prophet,  to  waste  hours,  which  were  only  too  swift  in 
their  flight  for  one  so  feeble,  upon  giving  form  to  the  in- 
spiring truth  which  he  knew  he  was  called  to  communi- 
cate. Fully  aware,  as  he  was,  too,  that  he  had  attained 
but  to  glimpses  of  most  glorious  realities,  he  could  not 
be  so  presumptuous  and  irreverent  as  to  attach  an  unreal 
value  to  what  he  humbly  regarded  as  fragmentary  sugges- 
tions ;  and  the  conceptions  struggling  within  him,  over 
which  he  delightedly  brooded,  in  meditative  days  and 
wakeful  nights,  were  so  sweet  and  majestic,  that  any 
portraiture  of  them  would  have  seemed  incomplete  and 
unfinished.  He  could  give,  at  the  best,  but  a  sketch  of 
his  meaning,  like  a  child's  rough  outline  of  some  statue 
or  landscape.  His  chief  care,  therefore,  was,  to  be  true  ; 
and  he  left  his  expression  to  take  its  hue  and  shape  spon- 
taneously. A  glance  at  his  manuscripts  shows  how  un- 
labored was  his  style.  The  corrections  are,  for  the 
most  part,  erasures ;  and,  where  words  are  exchanged 
for  others,  in  all  cases,  it  is  by  substitution  of  a  simple 
phrase  for  a  composite  one.  Systematically,  from  even 
early  years,  he  disciplined  his  fancy  to  severe  sober- 
ness ;  though  any  one  who  knew  him  intimately  could 
not  but  see  how  richly  stored  were  his  galleries  of  thought 
with  exquisite  natural  images.  He  feared  that  the  sense 
of  the  hearer  or  reader  would  be  lured  from  the  aspect 
of  truth  to  the  splendor  of  her  robes  by  the  use  of  meta- 


336  THE  Ml.MSTRY  AND  LITERATURE. 

plior,  and  30  habiiually  checked  his  instinctive  i)ropensity 
to  present  laws  and  principles  by  the  medium  of  syn)bols. 
His  effort  was,  to  utter  himself  plainly.  The  exercise 
of  imagination,  also,  he  restrained,  limiting  its  sphere  to 
giving  a  fresh  and  vigorous  embodiment  to  his  ideas  in 
the  most  obvious  form,  though  he  was  apt  and  able  for 
original  creation,  if  he  had  seen  it  to  be  a  befitting  wqrk. 
The  very  play  of  the  affections  he  subdued,  and  constant- 
ly sought  for  a  calm,  attempered,  equable  tone  of  state- 
ment, though  his  fervent  will  necessarily  infused  a  glow 
of  eloquence  through  the  whole  texture  of  his  composi- 
tion. And,  finally,  he  would  not  allow  himself  to  be  ab- 
stract or  scientific  in  his  method  or  vocabulary,  for  fear 
that  the  public  would  be  deterred  from  listening  to,  or 
prevented  from  apprehending,  the  divine  thoughts  which 
he  was  empowered  to  teach,  unless  won  to  attention  by  a 
familiar  mode  of  treatment.  In  a  word,  he  saw  an  imme- 
diate duty  to  be  done,  which  was,  to  rouse  his  lethargic 
fellow-beings  to  a  consciousness  of  the  grandeur  of  man's 
spiritual  existence,  and  he  resolutely  consecrated  himself, 
by  iteration  and  reiteration  of  one  sublime  lesson,  now 
breathed  softly  in  whispers,  now  rung  out  like  an  alarum, 
to  break  the  dream  of  the  world  and  to  summon  the  mul- 
titude to  the  labors  and  joys  of  a  brightening  morning. 

The  history  of  his  various  publications  confirms  this 
view  of  Dr.  Channing  as  a  literary  man.  He  became 
an  author  unawares.  When  the  "  Anthology  Club  " 
commenced  the  course  of  labors  which  did  so  much  to 
give  an  impulse  to  the  intellect  of  New  England,  he  was 
invited  to  be  a  contributor  to  their  journal  ;  and,  in  con- 
sequence, he  communicated  to  its  pages  two  or  three 
essays,  a  few  fragmentary  thoughts,  and  one  or  more 
short  pieces  iji  verse,  which  were  probably  the  only  at- 


PUBLICATIONS.  337 

tempts  he  ever  made  at  poetical  composition.  But  he 
could  not  enter  cordially  into  what  he  felt  to  be,  for  him- 
self, at  least,  but  "  busy  idleness."  His  work  was  to 
preach.  As  great  political  occasions  called  from  him 
sermons  which  contained  declarations  of  sentim.ent  and 
opinion  adapted  to  the  wants  of  the  times,  he  reluctantly 
yielded  to  the  demand  for  their  publication,  and  allowed 
them  to  be  printed,  as  first  written,  with  scarcely  a  ver- 
bal amendment.  In  the  Christian  Disciple,  he  sought 
to  do  what  he  might  to  pour  oil  upon  the  stormy  waves 
which  were  then  swelling  beneath  the  tempest  of  contro- 
versy ;  and  only  when  he  could  in  conscience  no  longer 
keep  silence,  addressed  to  his  fellow-Christians  his  re- 
monstrance against  spiritual  despotism,  in  his  letters  to 
Mr.  Thacher  and  Dr.  Worcester.  Thus,  in  the  first 
era  of  his  ministry,  it  is  seen  how  accidentally  he  found 
himself  summoned  from  his  quiet  study  and  round  of  par- 
ish duties,  to  modes  of  address  for  which  he  felt  no  taste. 
And  in  the  last  era  of  his  life,  until  within  a  very  few 
years  before  his  death,'  he  had  the  same  disinclination  to 
make  any  special  call  upon  the  attention  of  his  fellow- 
men.  Apart  from  the  restraints  of  his  native  modesty, 
and  the  influence  of  his  lofty  ideal,  measured  by  whose 
standard  most  of  the  literature  of  the  age  appeared  tame 
and  frivolous,  he  was  so  eager  to  climb  to  serener 
heights,  that  it  satisfied  him  to  send  forth  a  cheering  cry 
to  brethren  struggling  upwards  through  the  shadows,  as 
prospects  of  beauty  opened  amidst  the  fog.  His  pub- 
licadons  were  still  occasional  addresses,  drawn  from  him 
by  request.  Friends  urged  him  continually  to  embody 
his  thoughts  in  a  more  permanent  form,  to  which  he  re- 
plied, that  they  were  not  quite  ripe.  And  when  be- 
sought at  least  to  revise,  select,  and  print  in  a  volume 
VOL.   II.  29 


338  THE    BIINISTRY    AND    LrrKKATLTRE. 

what  he  had  already  given  to  the  public,  he  could  not 
be  prev^ailed  upon  to  think  it  of  sufficient  importance  to 
authorize  his  expending  on  such  a  work  hours  which  he 
felt  bound  to  consecrate  to  progressive  inquiry. 

At  length  the  desire  to  aid  in  giving  a  higher  tone  and 
securing  a  wider  sphere  of  influence  to  the  Christian  Dis- 
ciple, which  in  1824  was  enlarged,  and  took  a  new  form 
under  the  name  of  the  Christian  Examiner,  drew  from  him 
some  essays,  which  attained  a  most  unlooked-for  celeb- 
rity, and  made  him  universally  known  in  the  world  of  let- 
ters. The  attention  excited  by  these  papers  was  a  great 
surprise  to  him,  and  he  always  considered  the  estimate 
placed  upon  them  by  the  public  exaggerated.  To  redeem 
his  promise  of  communicating  an  impulse  to  the  review 
which  was  the  special  organ  of  Liberal  Christianity,  and  to 
set  an  example  of  a  bold,  free,  manly  treatment  of  great 
subjects,  in  hterature,  pohtics,  education,  science,  &c., 
he  poured  out,  with  his  usual  rapidity  of  composition, 
trains  of  thought,  which  at  all  times  interested  him,  and 
which  were  freshly  recalled  by  the  successive  appearance 
of  Milton's  "  Christian  Doctrine,"  Scott's  "  Life  of 
Bonaparte,"  and  "  Selections  from  Fenelon  "  ;  but  his 
chief  aim  was,  to  awaken  his  own  immediate  circle  of  be- 
lievers to  a  more  comprehensive,  cordial,  direct  applica- 
tion of  religion  to  life.  The  themes,  however,  were 
most  interesting  to  him,  and  the  very  spontaneousness 
with  which  he  expressed  himself  was  favorable  to  the  true 
manifestation  of  his  character  and  mind.  These  hasty 
effusions,  which,  considered  as  literary  models,  he  val- 
ued but  little,  let  a  sympathizing  reader  very  deeply  into 
the  essential  spirit  of  the  man.  His  tender  sensibility, 
delicacy  of  taste,  chivalric  heroism,  loyal  love  of  truth, 
high  integrity,  expansiveness,  aspiration,  pervade  the  no 


MISCELLANIES.  339 

tice  of  the  sublime  poet  and  stern  republican.  His  pro- 
found veneration  for  man,  grand  estimate  of  the  end  and 
method  of  life,  and  devout  confidence  irfGod's  infinite 
purposes  of  benignity  to  his  human  family,  give  to  his 
searching  analysis  of  the  springs  of  action  in  the  military 
despot  an  awful  sincerity  ;  and  as  the  culprit  is  brought 
before  the  piercing  eyes  of  the  congregated  spiritual 
world,  stripped  of  the  tinsel  rags  of  false  glory,  pity 
prompts  the  reader  to  recall  every  good  trait  and  deed,  as 
a  mantle  to  cover  his  shame.  The  uncompromising  con- 
science of  the  writer  here  appears  with  the  grave,  firm 
aspect  of  an  impartial  judge  upon  the  bench.  The  me- 
thodical habit  of  his  mind  is  also  shown,  in  the  manner 
'n  which  he  passes  from  the  condemnation  of  lawless 
power  in  an  individual  instance  to  the  discussion  of  the 
rightful  function  and  scope  of  government,  closing  with 
an  unreserved  expression  of  reverence  for  the  judiciary. 
The  second  part  of  the  essay  on  Bonaparte  —  it  may 
be  said,  in  passing —  was  written  with  n)ore  care,  prob- 
ably, than  any  of  the  occasional  pieces  of  that  period. 
It  is  in  the  notice  of  Fenelon,  however,  that  what  was 
most  characteristic  of  Dr.  Channing  appeared.  Tn  count- 
less little  strokes  and  touches  throughout  that  paper,  he 
sketched  his  own  likeness  with  a  fidelity  which  no  second 
hand  will  ever  rival  ;  and  the  almost  angelic  ideal  of  piety 
there  given  was  an  unconscious  portrait  of  the  beauly  of 
his  own  holiness. 

Soon  after  the  publication  of  these  essays  in  the  Ex- 
aminer, the  desire  to  aid  a  friend  induced  Dr.  Channing 
to  collect  and  revise  what  he  thought  worth  preserving  in 
his  past  writings,  —  a  private  feeling  of  kindness  present- 
ing a  motive,  which  sense  of  duty  as  an  author  did  not 
supply.     And  thus  the  volume  of  Miscellanies  came  to 


340  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

be  printed  in  1830.  In  the  Preface  to  the  first  edi- 
tion, he  thus  indicates  his  own  estimate  of  his  literary 
labors. 

"  The  reader  cannot  be  more  aware  than  I  am,  that  these 
various  tracts,  called  forth  by  particular  occasions,  and  nev- 
er intended  to  appear  in  their  present  form,  need  many 
and  great  changes;  but  they  probably  would  never  have 
been  repubhshed,  had  I  waited  for  leisure  to  conform  them 
to  my  ideas  of  what  they  should  be,  or  to  make  them  more 
worthy  of  the  unexpected  favor  which  they  have  received. 
They  were  written  to  meet  the  wants  of  the  times,  and  to 
place  what  I  deem  great  truths  within  reach  of  the  multi- 
tude of  men.  If  the  reader  will  bear  this  in  mind,  some 
defects  will  more  readily  be  excused.  The  second  Review 
in  particular  should  be  referred  to  the  date  of  its  original 
publication 

"  I  esteem  it  a  privilege  that  my  writings  have  called 
forth  many  strictures  and  been  subjected  to  an  unsparing 
criticism.  I  know  that  in  some  things  I  must  have  erred. 
I  cannot  hope,  that,  even  in  my  most  successful  efforts,  I 
have  done  full  justice  to  any  great  truth.  Deeply  conscious 
of  my  fallibleness,  I  wish  none  of  my  opinions  to  be  taken 
on  trust,  nor  would  I  screen  any  from  the  most  rigorous 
examination.  If  my  opponents  have  exposed  my  errors, 
I  owe  them  a  great  debt;  and  should  I  fail,  through  the 
force  of  prejudice,  to  see  and  acknowledge  my  obligation 
to  them  in  this  life,  I  hope  to  do  so  in  the  future  world. 

"  I  have  declined  answering  attacks  made  on  my  writ- 
ings, not  from  contempt  of  my  opponents,  among  whom 
are  men  of  distinguished  ability  and  acknowledced  virtue, 
but  because  I  believed  that  I  should  do  myself  and  others 
more  good  by  seeking  higher  and  wider  views,  than  by 
defending  what  I  had  already  oflbrcd.  I  feared  that  my 
mind  might  become  stationary  by  lingering  round  my  owo 


MISCELLANIES.  341 

writings.  I  never  doubted,  that,  if  any  thing  in  these  were 
worthy  to  live,  it  would  survive  all  assaults,  and  I  was  not 
anxious  to  uphold  for  a  moment  what  was  horned,  by  its 
want  of  vital  energy,  to  pass  away 

"  Very  possibly  this  volume  may  seem  to  want  consis- 
tency. I  have  long  been  conscious  that  we  are  in  more 
danger  of  being  enslaved  to  our  own  opinions,  especially 
to  such  as  we  have  expressed  and  defended,  than  to  those 
of  any  other  person  ;  and  I  have  accordingly  desired  to 
write  without  any  reference  to  my  previous  publications,  or 
without  any  anxiety  to  accommodate  my  present  to  my 
past  views.  In  treatises  prepared  in  this  spirit  and  at  dis- 
tant intervals,  some  incongruity  of  thought  and  feeling  can 
hardly  fail  to  occur. 

"  An  opposite  objection  may  be  urged,  that  the  volume 
has  too  much  repetition.  This  could  not  well  be  avoided 
in  articles  written  on  similar  topics  and  occasions,  —  writ- 
ten, too,  witliout  any  reference  to  each  other,  and  in  ex- 
pectation that  each  would  be  read  by  many  into  whose 
hands  the  others  would  not  probably  fall.  I  must  add,  that 
my  interest  in  certain  great  truths  has  made  me  anxious  to 
avail  myself  of  every  opportunity  to  enforce  them ;  nor 
do  I  feel  as  if  they  were  urged  more  frequently  than  their 
importance  demands. 

"  I  will  only  say,  in  conclusion,  that,  whilst  I  attach  no 
great  value  to  these  articles,  I  still  should  not  have  sub- 
mitted to  the  labor  of  partially  revising  them,  did  I  not 
believe  that  they  set  forth  some  great  truths,  which,  if  car- 
ried out  and  enforced  by  more  gifted  minds,  may  do  much 
for  human  improvement.  If,  by  any  tiling  which  I  have 
written,  I  may  be  an  instrument  of  directing  such  minds 
more  seriously  to  the  claims  and  true  greatness  of  our  na- 
ture, I  shall  be  most  grateful  to  God.  This  subject  deserves, 
and  will  sooner  or  later  engage,  the  profoundest  meditations 
of  wise  and  good  men.  I  have  done  for  it  what  I  could  j 
29* 


342  THE    MINISTRY    AND   LITERATURE. 

but  when  I  think  of  its  grandeur  and  importance,'  I  earnestly 
desire  and  anticipate  for  it  more  worthy  advocates.  In 
truth,  I  shall  see  with  no  emotion  but  joy  these  fugitive  pro- 
ductions forgotten  and  lost  in  the  superior  brijihtness  of 
writings  consecrated  to  the  work  of  awakening  in  the  hu- 
man soul  a  consciousness  of  its  divine  and  immortal  pow- 
ers." 

The  publication  of  a  second  volume  made  up  of 
Sermons  was  owing  to  a  like  motive  of  private  benev- 
olence. He  had  pledged  a  subscription  of  five  hun- 
dred dollars  to  the  Boston  Farm  School,  and  being  at 
the  time  so  situated  pecuniarily  that  he  could  not  oth- 
erwise well  meet  the  claim,  he  resorted  to  this  plan  as 
a  means  of  raising  the  sum.  It  so  happened,  however, 
that  he  was  immediately  seized  with  severe  illness,  with- 
out having  been  able  to  correct  and  prepare  more  than 
one  discourse  for  the  press.  The  rest  of  the  volume 
was  selected  and  arranged  by  his  friend.  Dr.  Dewey, 
and  the  sermons  now  appear  as  they  were  first  written 
for  the  pulpit.  And,  finally,  it  was  a  characteristic 
close  of  his  literary  career,  that  the  chief  inducement 
which  led  him  to  put  forth  the  complete  edition  of  his 
works,  in  six  volumes,  was  a  desire  to  make  the  publi- 
cation serviceable  to  a  brother,  who  was  then  turning 
his  attention  to  printing  and  editing  as  a  branch  of  busi- 
ness. From  first  to  last,  audiorship  was  the  accident 
of  Dr.  Channing's  life.  With  greater  physical  vigor, 
he  would  have  been  an  evangelist,  preaching  far  and 
wide,  with  the  living  voice,  the  exalting  views  which 
had  been  opened  to  his  earnest,  prayerful,  patient  seek- 
ing, or  an  active  reformer,  applying  directly  to  the 
wants  of  the  age  the  great  principle  of  love  with  which 
he  felt  that  Providence  was  inspiring  mankind. 


LORD    BYKON.  343 

Dr.  Channing's  'publications  were  the  means  of  intro- 
ducing him  to  a  society  of  most  refined  and  high-minded 
correspondents,  and  extracts  from  his  letters  to  them  will 
still  further  illustrate  his  literary  character. 

"  Newport,  October  4, 1821.  It  wants  massiveness,  depth, 
fulness  of  thought,  that  is,  it  wants  the  essential  properties 
of  high  poetry.  I  smile  when  I  hear  poetry  called  light 
reading.  The  true  poet  has  far-reaching  thoughts,  a  per- 
ception of  the  harmonious  and  exquisite  relations  of  the  uni- 
verse, an  eye  that  pierces  the  depths  and  mysteries  of  the 
soul,  placing  him  amidst  the  most  gifted  and  exalted  intel- 
ligences." 

"  June  28,  1824.*  I  can  hardly  express  the  feeling  the 
news  of  Lord  Byron's  death  has  given  me.  That  a  mind  so 
gifted  should  have  been  left  to  devote  its  energies  to  the 
cause  of  impiety  and  vice,  and  should  be  so  soon  and  sud- 
denly taken,  without  making  reparation  to  insulted  truth  and 
virtue, —  that  such  a  mind  is  to  live  for  ages  in  its  writings 
only  to  degrade  and  corrupt, —  in  all  this  we  see  the  myste- 
rious character  of  God's  providence.  I  always  hoped,  that, 
after  the  fever  of  youthful  passion,  this  unhappy  man  would 
reflect,  repent,  and  prove  that  in  genius  there  is  something 
congenial  with  religion.  But  he  is  gone  —  where  human 
praise  and  human  reproaches  cannot  follow  him.  Such 
examples  of  perverted  talent  should  reconcile  the  less  gifted 
to  their  obscure  lot. 

"  In  his  whole  life  he  was  by  way  of  eminence  a  law 
less  man,  spurning  all  restraint,  whether  divine  or  human, 
whether  from  his  own  conscience  or  from  society  ;  and  he 
seems  to  have  valued  no  power  more  than  that  of  defying 
and  resisting  all  wills  which  interfered  with  his  own.     Tha/ 

*  To  Mrs.  Joanna  Baillie. 


344  THE  MI^MSTKV  a:<d  literature. 

any  talent,  however  stupendous,  should  have  made  such  a 
man  an  idol  to  your  sex  shows  that  you  must  divide  with  us 
the  reproach  too  justly  brought  against  our  age  of  great 
moral  degradation.  I  learn  that  there  is  not  on  the  face  of 
the  earth  a  more  corrupt  class  than  the  fashionable  young 
men  of  Englanc^.  Would  this  be  so,  if  young  women  were 
more  true. to  the  cause  of  virtue?  This  is  almost  too  grave 
for  a  letter  ;  but  the  toleration  of  gross  vice,  so  common  in 
what  are  called  the  higher  classes,  is  not  to  be  thought  of 
without  sorrow  and  indignation. 

"  You  ask  me  what  I  think  of  Moore's  doctrine,  that  men 
of  the  first  genius  are  naturally    unfitted  for  friendship  or 

domestic   life.     I  have    no   faith   in  it I   have   no 

doubt  that  genius  is  often  joined  with  vice,  but  not  naturally 
or  necessarily.  Mediocrity  can  boast  of  as  many  irritable, 
self-willed,  licentious  subjects  as  high  talent.  Moore  seems 
to  think  genius  a  kind  of  fever,  madness,  intoxication.  How 
little  does  he  understand  its  divinity  !  I  know  that  some- 
times the  '  great  deeps '  in  the  heart  of  a  man  are  broken 
open,  and  the  mind  is  overwhelmed  with  a  rush  of  thought 
and  feeling ;  but  generally  genius  is  characterized  by  self- 
mastery.  It  is  true  of  this  inspiration  what  Saint  Paul  says 
of  a  higher,  — '  The  spirit  of  a*  prophet  is  subject  to  the 
prophet.'  The  highest  genius,  I  believe,  is  a  self-guiding, 
calm,  comprehensive  power.  It  creates  in  the  spirit  of  the 
Author  of  the  Universe,  in  the  spirit  of  order.  It  worships 
truth  and  beauty.  There  is  truth  in  its  wildest  inventions, 
and  it  tinges  its  darkest  pictures  with  hues  of  beauty.  As 
to  Moore's  notion,  that  genius,  because  it  delights  in  the 
ideal,  is  soon  wearied  and  disgusted  with  the  real,  it  is  false. 
The  contrary  is  rather  true.  He  who  conceives  and  loves 
beauty  in  its  highest  forms  is  most  alive  to  it  in  its  humblest 
manifestation.  He  loves  it  not  by  comparison,  or  for  its  de- 
gree, but  for  its  own  sake  ;  and  the  same  is  true  of  beauty. 
The  true  worshipper  of  beauty  sees  it  in  the  lowliest  flower, 


MRS.    HEBIANS.  345 

meets  it  in  every  path,  enjoys  it  everywhere.  Fact  is 
against  Moore.  The  greatest  men  I  have  known  have  been 
the  most  beautiful  examples  of  domestic  virtue.  Moore's 
doctrine  makes  genius  a  curse,  and  teaches  that  the  Creator, 
the  source  of  harmony,  has  sown  discord  between  the  no- 
blest attributes  of  the  soul.  I  shall  not  wonder  if  some 
half-witted  pretenders  to  genius  should,  on  the  strength  of 
Moore's  assertion,  prove  their  title  by  brutality  in  their  do- 
mestic and  social  relations. 

"  I  rejoice  with  you  in  Mrs.  Hemans's  success.  She 
needs  it,  and  I  hope  it  will  not  harm  her.  She  will  not,  I 
think,  be  intoxicated  by  the  praise  of  the  Edinburgh.  The 
article  to  which  you  refer  in  that  work  seemed  to  me  to  be- 
tray little  real  admiration,  but  more  of  studied  courtesy 
and  chivalrous  resolution  to  be  generous  to  a  lady.  You 
and  Mrs.  Hemans  seem  to  show,  in  opposition  to  the  review- 
er, that  a  woman  may  exceed  the  limits  of  a  page  without 
betraying  her  inferiority  to  man.  When  I  consider  how 
much  the  life  of  woman  is  broken  up  into  little  details,  and 
what  the  routine  is  to  which  she  is  doomed  by  the  present 
state  of  society,  I  do  not  wonder  that  she  has  not  written 
epic  poems.  As  to  the  Edinburgh,  I  consider  its  dispar- 
aging tone  towards  me  as  an  offset  for  the  undue  praise  re- 
ceived from  other  quarters.  The  author  of  the  article  is 
now  dead  ;  and  as  I  did  not  feel  a  moment's  anger  towards 
him  during  his  life,  I  have  no  reproach  for  him  now.  He 
was  a  man  of  fine  powers,  and  wanted  nothing  but  pure  and 
fixed  principles  to  make  him  one  of  the  lights  of  his  age." 

'■'Portsmouth,  R.  J.,  June  16,  1828.*  I  received  dis- 
tinctly the  impression  that  Shelley  was  a  noble  nature  sadly 
perverted,  and  that,  under  happier  influences,  he  might  have 
proved  the  glory  of  his  race 

•  To  Miss  Ruth  P.  Olney,  Providence. 


346  THE    BIIMSTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  something  of  Shelley  from  one 
worthy  of  belief  and  capable  of  estimating  him.  I  am  in- 
clined to  think  him  a  man  lost  to  religion  through  the  folly, 
hypocrisy,  and  intolerance  of  its  '  friends.'  How  many 
noble  spirits  have  been  ruined  by  identifying  religion  with 
its  loud  professors !  But  I  mean  not  to  make  excuse  for 
such  persons.  They  have  no  right  to  take  their  ideas  of  re- 
ligion from  the  pulpit  and  vulgar  cant.  They  have  access 
to  her  true  oracles  and  expounders,  to  the  teachings  of  the 
universe  and  of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  these  teachings  it  is  their 
duty  to  .ay  open  to  their  less  gifted  brethren,  not  to  unsettle 
the  foundations  of  human  hope  and  to  precipitate  weak- 
er minds  from  the  Rock  of  Ages  into  the  gulf  of  doubt, 
darkness,  and  despair.  I  mean  not,  however,  '  to  shut  the 
gates  of  mercy  '  against  the  skeptic.  That  he  is  sometimes 
more  virtuous  than  many  a  believer  who  condemns  him, 
I  doubt  not.  The  mass  of  people  who  never  think  under- 
stand little  the  trials  of  a  superior  mind  which  must  think, 
which  cannot  but  question  Nature  and  Providence,  and  which 
nas  been  taught  to  associate  almost  indissolubly  with  moral 
and  religious  principles  opinions  which  it  sees  to  be  without 
foundation. 

"  On  such  a  mind,  when  it  seems  to  me  to  err,  I  dare  not 
pronounce  sentence,  and  I  see  with  pleasure  whatever 
proofs  it  gives  of  principle,  of  respect  for  duty,  amidst  its 
aberrations." 

" /m/ip,  1827.  I  have  sometimes  felt,  in  reading  Mrs. 
Hemans's  works,  that  her  sense  of  the  evils  of  life  is  too 
keen  and  colors  her  views  too  much.  I  love  to  be  touched, 
moved,  but  not  depressed.  No  genius,  no  power  of  execu- 
tion, can  recompense  me  for  what  I  suffer  from  the  tones  of 
sorrow  coming  to  me  from  a  highly  gifted  mind  in  which 
the  deepest  impressions  are  those  of  suffering,  and  over 
whose  brightest  inventions  there  is  a  hue  of  sadness.     My 


BONDS    BETWEEN    NATIONS.  347 

confidence  in  the  great  purposes  of  God  towards  us,  my 
persuasion  that  all  suffering  is  meant  to  purif^and  exalt  the 
soul,  to  be  the  occasion  of  moral  strength  and  victory,  leads 
me  to  feel  that  a  deep  peace  and  an  unbroken  resolution  m 
all  changes  arc  due  alike  to  ourselves  and  to  our  Creator.  1 
may  err.  Perhaps  a  life  of  prosperity  has  made  me  inca- 
pable of  understanding  the  sorrow-stricken  spirit.  But  it 
seems  to  me  one  of  the  great  purposes  and  blessed  influ- 
ences of  Christian  faith  to  reconcile  intense  sensibility  with 
peace  and  energy." 

"  Boston,  March  30,  1830.*  You  have  not  yet,  I  trust, 
fulfilled  your  mission  on  earth,  though,  were  it  now  to  end, 
you  would  leave  behind  you  emanations  of  your  spirit  to  act 
far  and  wide  and  in  ages  to  come.  I  thank  you  for  the  last 
volume  you  sent  me.  The  last  two  pieces  but  one  were 
new  to  me,  and  seemed  to  me  to  express  with  great  truth 
and  pathos  that  union  of  upward  aspiration  and  earthly  at- 
tachment which  I  should  call  a  just  tribute  to  both  worlds, 
and  which  shows  the  unity  of  our  whole  being 

"  I  know  that  the  effort  which  you  ask  is  a  slight  one  ;  but, 
to  a  man  overburdened  already,  a  slight  addition  of  labor  is 
soTTiething  serious.  The  motive  which  you  suggest  is  a 
more  powerful  one  with  me  than  you  can  well  imagine.  I 
perhaps  owe  it  to  myself  to  say,  that  I  know  no  one  quite 
as  anxious  as  I  am  to  multiply  intellectual,  moral,  and  re- 
ligious bonds  between  my  own  and  other  countries.  Few 
estimate  as  humbly  as  I  do  the  moral  worth  of  what  is  called 
national  spirit,  compared  with  the  spirit  of  Christianity.  I 
have  hoped,  by  turning  men's  thoughts  on  their  own  nature, 
—  a  nature  which  all  hold  in  common,  —  to  do  something 
toward  substituting  a  more  generous  and  universal  bond  for 
those  selfish  and  narrow  ones  which,  as  yet,  have  done  more 

•  To  Mrs.  Felicia  Hemans. 


348  THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 

towards  dividing  than  uniting  the  human  family.  Of  course 
I  have  no  desire  to  exclude  national  attachments,  but  I 
would  have  a  new  spirit  of  humanity,  founded  on  respect 
for  human  nature,  spread  abroad,  and  if,  by  being  a  con- 
tributor to  any  literary  work  on  your  side  of  the  ocean,  I 
can  strengthen  a  virtuous  sympathy  between  our  countries, 
I  will  do  so  very  cheerfully,  when  I  have  time  and  strength, 
both  of  which  are  now  wanting." 

'■''April  2,  1831.  I  am  glad  to  have  an  excuse  for  ex- 
pressing again  my  affectionate  solicitude  for  you.  May  I 
not  hope  that  you  have  found  increased  strength  for  suffer- 
ing .''  Does  life  still  present  itself  so  much  under  its  dark 
aspects  }  Are  you  not  attaining  to  a  more  reverential  con- 
sciousness of  your  own  soul,  and  of  its  relations  to  God,  so 
as  to  feel  yourself  the  possessor  of  a  celestial  treasure  amidst 
all  earthly  changes .?  Does  not  the  infinite  purpose  of  Hfe 
open  more  upon  you  and  interpret  to  you  your  sufferings  ? 
I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  you  as  sinking  under  the  evils  of 
life.  There  are  some  in  whose  depression  I  acquiesce. 
When  I  read  Byron,  for  example,  I  have  a  satisfaction 
mixed  with  compassion  in  hearing  from  him  the  tones  of 
gloomy,  angry  despondence.  I  mean  that  my  sense  of  jus- 
tice is  satisfied.  I  see  him  receiving  a  fit  recompense  of  his 
guilt.  He  refused  to  see  and  walk  in  the  '  light  of  life,'  and 
deserved  to  walk  in  darkness.  He  renounced  his  allegiance 
to  God  and  to  the  everlasting  law  of  duty,  and  abandoned 
himself  without  restraint  to  self-will  and  pride  ;  and  how 
fit  and  necessary  was  it  that  he  should  endure  the  miseries 
of  a  lonely,  desolate  soul  !  No  wonder  he  looked  with  a 
bitter  discontent  on  life,  for  he  carried  within  himself  no 
revelation  of  the  good  for  which  the  trials  of  life  are  or- 
dained. There  was  nothing  within  him  to  oppose  to  the 
evil  without,  and  he  was  conquered  by  that  evil.  To  his 
diseased  apprehension,  the  power  of  evil  was  triumphant  in 


CHANTREy's    WASHINGTON.  349 

the  universe.  He  had  no  suspicion  of  its  infinite  weakness, 
compared  with  the  power  of  good.  He  did  not  understand 
its  ministry  in  caUing  forth  what  is  most  Divine  in  man.  He 
was  therefore,  I  say,  conquered  by  it.  But  evil  ought  not  to 
conquer  you.  You  carry  ite  interpretation  within  you.  You 
have  aids  granted  but  to  few,  for  transmuting  it  into  good. 
May  I  not  hope  that  you  are  gradually  rising  to  that  serene 
'  starry  height ' .''  " 

« July  16,  1835.*  We  have  just  heard  of  Mrs.  Hern- 
ans's  death.  She  has  done  lier  work  nobly,  and  has  gone, 
I  trust,  to  a  higher  sphere  of  action.  She  has  aided  the 
spiritual  life  in  very  many  whom  she  never  saw 

"We  are  all  admiring  here  a  statue  of  Washington  by 
Chantrey.  We  think  it  a  noble  work.  Is  it  true  that  the 
arts  have  reached  their  perfection  ?  Their  highest  province 
is  to  express  exalted  conceptions  of  human  character ;  and 
are  we  not,  however  slowly,  rising  to  juster  and  loftier  ideas 
of  moral  greatness  than  the  ancients  had  .''  They  are  never 
to  be  excelled,  perhaps,  in  expressing  the  perfection  of  the 
animal  nature  and  the  simpler  or  more  primitive  emotions. 
But  in  proportion  as  superstition  and  slavery  disappear  and 
leave  the  mind  to  unfold  itself  more  fully,  I  trust  that  nobler 
and  more  beautiful  forms  of  character  will  be  manifested, 
which  genius  will  embody  in  works  of  art.  You  and  I  may 
not  live  to  see  these  hopes  fulfilled.  But  a  good  hope  is  worth 
keeping  for  its  own  sake." 

"  1838.t  As  to  Scott's  Life  by  Lockhart,  I  have  read  the 
first  volume  with  singular  pleasure.  It  answers  one  end  of 
biography  better  than  any  I  have  seen.  It  shows  the  forma- 
tion of  the  hero's  mind.  It  has  always  been  a  puzzle  to  me, 
how  a  man  in  such  an  age  as  this  could  contrive  to  fill,  cram, 

*  To  Miss  Jane  E.  Roscoe,  Liverpool, 
t  To  Miss  Harriet  Martineau. 

VOL.  II.  30 


350  THE    MINISTRY   AND    LITERATURE. 

his  mind  with  the  stories,  costumes,  &:c.,  of  border  warfare 
and  a  race  of  barbarians.  Lockhart  explains  it  all.  Scott's 
character  is  much  what  I  expected.  I  knew  that  he  had  no 
comprehension  of  the  high  purposes  of  literature,  —  that  to 
him  it  was  a  plaything,  not  a  sacred  power;  that  his  knowl- 
edge of  human  nature  was  that  of  a  man  of  the  world,  not  a 
philosopher,  —  that  he  was,  in  a  word,  a  most  admirable 
specimen  of  a  man  of  the  world.  The  union  of  so  much 
shrewdness  and  goodness  with  his  absurd  Tory  prejudices  is 
an  illustration  of  the  inconsistencies  of  human  nature.  I  ask 
myself,  '  Am  I  as  inconsistent  as  every  body  else  .' '  But  I 
must  ramble  on  no  longer.  I  wish  I  could  say  more  of  Scott. 
I  certainly  owe  him  a  great  deal.  He  and  Miss  Mitford  have 
solaced  many  hours  of  illness." 

"  Boston,  May  4,  1838.*  I  have  read  with  great  pleasure 
the  first  six  volumes  of  Scott's  Life,  though  sometimes  wearied 
by  letters  which  might  as  well  have  been  omitted.  The 
work  lets  the  reader  into  the  formation  of  the  subject's  mind, 
or  into  the  circumstances  which  determined  it,  and  this  is  no 
small  merit.  Not  that  I  think  the  mind  the  creature  of  cir- 
cumstances ;  but  some  men  are  reflections  of  the  outward 
more  than  others,  and  this  I  think  was  eminently  the  case 
with  Scott.  His  was  not  a  mind  to  penetrate  itself,  haunted 
with  its  own  mysteries,  and  conscious  of  mightier  conflicts 
and  processes  within  than  any  abroad.  He  lived  abroad. 
He  was  a  keen,  shrewd  observer  of  whatever  passed  around 
him.  No  man  ever  understood  more  of  what  is  called  life, 
and  of  the  more  superficial  workings  of  the  human  heart. 
Philosophy  he  had  none,  and  he  interpreted  very  poorly  the 
passions  which  he  painted,  or  suspected  little  what  they  indi- 
cate. Thus  he  seems  to  me  to  have  been  formed  from 
abroad,  and  hence  he  is  a  good  subject  for  biography.     The 

*  To  Mrs.  Joanna  Baillie. 


SIR   WALTER    SCOTT.  351 

greatest  minds  admit  no  biography.  They  are  determined 
from  within.  Their  works  spring  from  unfalhomed  depths 
in  their  own  souls,  from  silent,  secret  thoughts,  inqaisitions, 
aspirations,  which  come  they  know  not  whence,  go  they 
know  not  whither. 

"  You  see  1  do  not  place  Scott  among  the  greatest ;  and 
yet,  when  I  think  of  his  vast  range  of  observation,  of  his 
power  of  appropriating  all  he  saw  to  his  purposes,  of  his 
inexhaustible  invention,  of  his  wide  sympathy,  and  of  the 
spirit  of  humanity  pervading  his  writings,  I  feel  something 
like  self-rebuke  as  I  think  that  I  may  have  spoken  of  him 
disparagingly.  He  discovered  want  of  moral  greatness  in 
his  want  of  reverence  for  his  own  mind,  in  his  unconscious- 
ness of  the  holy  purpose  to  which  genius  may  always  be 
consecrated,  in  his  childish  admiration  of  hereditary  honors, 
and  his  incapacity  of  conceiving  of  a  higher  state  of  human 
nature  and  of  society  than  now  exists.  He  was,  as  I  have 
more  than  once  said,  the  ideal  of  a  man  of  the  world,  —  the 
highest,  most  attractive  manifestation  of  that  character  which 
I  have  known.  Let  me  add,  that  in  one  thing  I  sympathize 
with  him,  and  that  is  the  affectionate  reverence  ^yhich  he 
bore  to  yourself" 

1838.*  "  I  could  not  but  be  grateful  to  you  for  the  kind 
manner  in  which  you  received  my  remarks  on  Sir  Walter 
Scott.  After  sending  them,  I  began  to  doubt  whether  I  might 
not  have  given  some  pain  to  so  old  a  friend  of  Scott.  How 
litde  mercy  great  men  find  from  the  world  !  Their  very 
greatness  invites  unreasonable  criticism,  for,  after  all  our 
experience  of  human  nature,  we  look  for  consistency  in 
men,  and  greatness  in  one  particular  excites  expectations  of 
something  proportioned  to  it  in  other  parts  of  the  character, 
and  when  the   hero  in  one  walk  is  found  to  be  much  like 

*  To  Mrs.  Joanna  Baillie. 


352 


THE    MINISTRY    AND    LITERATURE. 


common  men  in  others,  we  are  more  ready  to  wonder  at  hi3 
deficiency  than  his  superiority. 

"  One  thing  I  admired  in  your  friend,  and  that  was  his  pa- 
tience with  dull  people.  Nothing,  perliaps,  showed  more 
that  his  nerves  were  in  good  order.  To  a  man  of  genius, 
whose  thoughts  move  at  lightning-pace,  a  creeping  proser 
must  be  a  terrible  annoyance.  This  single  evil  was  no  small 
offset  against  the  pleasures  of  his  literary  celebrity.  Not 
that  I  think  that  a  man  of  genius  can  be  happy  only  with 
men  like  himself.  Great  people  may  be  as  tedious  as  little 
ones  ;  but  when  dull  people  came  to  admire  Scott,  and 
showed  off  their  dulness  at  length,  that  they  too  might  share 
the  joy  of  admiration,  I  think  his  patience  must  have  had  a 
sore  trial,  and  that  he  proved  his  humanity  in  bearing  it  so 
quietly 

"  I  have  not  been  able  to  write,  except  in  a  very  miscel- 
laneous manner;  but  my  mind  has  not  been  idle,  and  I 
hope  that  I  may  be  able  to  do  something  soon 

" was  formerly  in  Congress.     knew  much  of 

our  distinguished  men.  But  in  this  country  a  few  years 
bring  a  new  set  on  the  political  stage,  and  the  distinguished 
whom  they  displace  pass  from  memory.  Docs  it  require 
much  philosophy  nowadays  to  learn  the  emptiness  of  what 
is  called  distinction  ?  How  few,  like  you,  wear  fresh  lau- 
rels in  old  ago  !  An  hour  ago,  a  friendly  visitor  was  kind 
enough  to  speak  of  me  as  a  candidate  for  posthumous  fame. 
I  felt  how  many  higher  reputations  had  faded  away  in  my 
own  time.  It  would  be  a  pity  if  fame  were  an  essential  of 
happiness ;  for  how  few  get  it !  It  is  not  the  extent,  but  the 
quality,  of  one's  influence  which  constitutes  glory.  All  those 
who  will  act  nobly  on  one  or  a  few  minds  have  the  prize 
within  their  reach. 

"  With  great  respect,  your  sincere  friend." 

"  What  a  beautiful  conception  the  character  of  Sergeant 


SUPERFICIALITY    OF    THE    AGE.  353 

Talfourd's  Ion   is.     I  wish  it  were  brought  out  with  more 
dramatic  animation,  and  with  a  less  cumbrous  style.     Still 

it  lias  delighted  me ■* 

"  Another  book  has  given  us  great  pleasure,  and  that  is 
Mrs.  Jameson's  new  book  on  Canada.  I  do  not  know  a  writ- 
er whose  works  breathe  more  of  the  spontaneous,  the  free. 
Beauty  and  truth  seem  to  come  to  her  unsought.  Her  free 
pencil  gives  us  the  Indians  with  all  the  signs  of  life  and 
reality ;  and  many  of  her  remarks  on  society  furnish  matter 
for  profound  thought."  * 

"We  have  had  no  new  book  since  Bulwer's  England 
which  has  made  any  noise  among  us.  Perhaps  we  are  not 
to  expect  any  good  ones  soon.  Whoever  wishes  to  be  read 
must  write  for  the  moment,  —  must  either  entertain  people 
or  discuss  their  immediate  interests.  It  is  the  ao-e  for 
speeches,  pamphlets,  periodicals,  and  fictions,  and  certainly 
a  good  deal  of  mind  is  thrown  off  in  these  forms,  and  a  good 
deal  of  fine  thought  put  into  circulation.  But  as  for  close 
thinking,  consecutive  reasoning,  and  broad  views  of  subjects, 
we  do  not  superabound  with  them  ;  and  yet  it  would  not  be 
a  surprise,  if  some  great,  immortal  work  should  be  silently 
matured  in  this  noisy  and  apparently  superficial  age. 

"  The  increasing  reputation  of  Coleridge  and  Wordsworth 
I  think  a  good  omen,  though  I  differ  from  them  on  so  many 
points.  They  have  not  written  for  the  multitude,  and  yet 
live  and  grow,  whilst  the  writers  for  the  multitude  are  for- 
gotten.  I  mean,  by  this  phrase,  those  who  write  to  please 
the  multitude.  I  honor  those  who  write  for  the  multitude, 
in  the  true  sense  of  the  word,  and  should  value  little  the 
highest  labors  of  genius,  did  I  not  believe  that  the  mass,  the 
race,  were  to  be  the  wiser  and  better  for  them."  t 

*  To  Mrs.  Joanna  Baillie.  t  To  Orville  Dewey,  D.  D. 

30* 


354 


CHAPTER  II. 


RELIGION  AND  PHILOSOPHY. 


Dr.  Channing  was,  as  we  have  seen,  a  prophet.  His 
function  was,  to  announce  to  his  fellow-men  the  spiritual 
privileges  and  duties  of  the  present  era  of  Christendom, 
to  bear  to  the  skeptical  an  inspiring  message,  to  waken 
the  worldly  to  a  consciousness  of  the  infinite  benignity  of 
God,  to  open  before  the  most  depressed  a  vision  of  the 
future  glories  of  our  race,  to  rouse  the  most  disheartened 
to  large  humanity  and  a  rounded  godliness.  But  in  pro- 
portion as  his  views  grew  clear  and  complete  to  his  own 
mind,  and  as  he  found  his  words  of  calm  faith  and  ear- 
nest hope  welcomed  by  the  few,  while  rejected  as  vision- 
ary by  too  many  even  of  the  good,  he  became  desirous 
to  give  some  fuller  statement  of  the  truth  which  he  knew 
he  was  empowered  to  teach.  He  longed  to  justify  to 
sober  good-sense  the  thoughts  which,  uttered  in  a  frag- 
mentary way,  might  and  did  seem  enthusiastic.  For  his 
aim  was  eminently  practical,  and  he  felt  that  his  work 
would  not  be  done,  unless  he  succeeded  in  filling  men  with 
a  fresh  and  profound  leverence  for  human  nature  in  them- 
selves and  their  brethren,  a  reverence  which  should  prac- 
tically manifest  itself  in  reformed  modes  of  life,  individ- 
ual and  collective.  For  many  years,  he  had  been,  by 
reading,  observation,  and  patient  thought,  accumulating 
a  large  mass  of  materials  ;  and  at  length  it  seemed  to  him 
that  the  time  had  come  when  he  was  in  some  measure 


PLANS    OF    AUTHORSHIP.  355 

worthily  fitted  to  write  a  work  on  Man, — his  nature, 
relations,  destiny,  and  duties.  The  first  allusion  to  this 
purpose  which  we  find  in  his  correspondence  appears  in 
the  following  letter  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Carpenter. 

"  Boston^  March  20,  1824.  I  wish  I  could  send  you,  in 
return  for  your  present,  some  of  my  own  writings.  But  my 
state  of  health  obliges  me  to  be  almost  idle.  I  have  long 
given  up  regular  application,  and  am  obliged  to  spend  the 
greatest  part  of  life  in  using  the  means  of  living.  Some- 
times I  hope  that  I  shall  be  spared  to  execute  a  work  of 
some  extent,  for  which  I  have  made  preparation ;  but  time 
flies  away,  and  nothing  is  done  but  the  accumulation  of 
more  materials,  and  my  plan  continues  to  grow,  whilst  the 
space  for  accomplishing  it  is  contracted.  But  this  is  the 
history  of  a  thousand  students,  —  especially  of  our  profes- 
sion, and  it  is  certainly  well  for  the  world  that  so  many 
schemes  of  authorship  prove  abortive." 

Other  references  to  this  proposed  work  appear  in  his 
letters,  and  we  give  a  iew  passages  which  will  serve  at 
once  to  illustrate  his  plan,  and  to  show  how  his  desire 
was  constantly  baffled,  alike  by  physical  infirmity  and  the 
constant  drafts  made  upon  his  time  and  power  by  tran- 
sient questions  of  immediate  importance. 

"  Newport,  July  9,  1827.*  It  will  gratify  you  to  know 
that  all  your  counsel  has  not  been  lost  upon  me,  —  whom 
you  have  probably  thought  more  unimpressible  than  any  of 
your  new  flock  at  the  North-end.  I  have  begun  to  accom- 
plish one  of  the  works  to  which  I  have  long  looked.      

rejoices,  and  I  feel,  that,  after  having  provoked  you  by  my 
insensibility  to  exhortation,  I  ought  to  give  you  a  share  in  her 

*  To  Joseph  Tuckerman,  D.  D. 


356  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

joy.  What  I  shall  do  I  am  not  sure.  I  somctuTies  hope 
that  God  may  give  me  a  place,  however  low,  in  the  class  of 
his  most  honored  servants,  —  I  mean,  of  those  who  throw 
Bome  new  light  on  the  subjects  in  which  human  nature  has 
the  deepest  interest.  At  the  same  time,  I  am  not  forgetful 
that  one  of  our  infirmities  is,  to  magnify  the  importance  of 
our  own  views,  and  that  greater  intellectual  toil  than  mine 
has  often  pi'oved  unprofitable." 

"  Sept.  1837.*  It  has  long  been  my  purpose  to  give  a 
connected,  systematic  view  of  my  most  important  opinions, 
or  convictions,  on  the  subjects  to  which  my  life  has  beer 
devoted.  I  have  made  large  accumulation  of  materials,  bu 
have  wanted  strength  to  labor  on  them  effectually.  I  anr- 
now  in  better  health,  and  have  begun  my  work.  What  1 
shall  be  able  to  accomplish  I  know  not.  I  cannot  but  feai 
that  I  shall  disappoint  my  friends,  not  only  in  consequence 
of  the  want  of  physical  energy,  but  from  intellectual  defects, 
of  which  I  am  deeply  conscious.  I  am  not,  however,  dis- 
couraged in  the  least  by  such  thoughts.  We  must  do  what 
we  can,  and  be  grateful,  if  we  can  do  but  little.  The  imme- 
diate reward  of  seeking  the  highest  truth  is  inexpressible. 
It  is  a  reward  to  know  that  even  a  few  minds  have  received 
light  and  strength  from  our  labors." 

"  July  10,  1838. t  By  the  kindness  of  Providence  I  have 
now  what  is  called  tolerable  health,  yet  for  four  months  I 
have  been  disabled  from  labor.  I  long  to  write,  for  I  feel  as 
if  I  had  delivered  but  a  small  part  of  my  message.  JMy 
whole  life  seems  to  me  but  a  preparation  for  a  work  which 
I  have  not  done  and  which  I  may  not  be  able  to  do  in  this 
world.  This  is  one  of  the  corroborations  of  a  higher  life. 
1  feel  that  I  have  not  exhausted  all  my  spiritual  activity, — 

*  To  William  Pliimcr,  Esq.,  Epping,  N.  U. 
1  To  J.  Blanco  White. 


OPPORTUNITIES    OF    THE    AGE.  357 

tliat  there  is  an  indefinite,  I  had  ahnost  said  infinite,  power 
and  life  within,  which  physical  infirmity  has  not  enabled  me 
to  bring  out.  Is  this  divine  energy  to  perish T  Is  there 
nothing  of  prophecy  in  these  aspirations  after  higher  spheres 
of  action  r  These  anticipations  are  joyful,  though  1  cannot 
say  that  they  fully  satisfy  me.  I  want  to  act  now,  to  act  in 
a  world  the  darkness,  sins,  and  suffering  of  which  weigh 
often  as  a  heavy  burden  on  my  spirit.  It  seems  to  me  that 
there  never  was  so  much  to  be  done  on  earth  as  at  this  mo- 
ment, never  so  great  a  demand  for  clear  and  bold  exposi- 
tions of  truth,  and  for  manifestations  of  the  pure  spirit  of 
Christianity.  There  never  was  more  to  contend  with,  and 
never  more  aids  for  the  conflict.  The  authority  of  the  past 
never  was  more  unsettled,  and  the  possibility  of  acting  benef- 
icently on  the  future  never  was  greater.  You  and  I,  how- 
ever, my  dear  sir,  are  too  advanced  to  do  what  we  would,  or 
to  see  the  results  of  others'  agency.  No  matter.  The  foun- 
tain of  moral  power  is  inexhaustible,  and  Providence  will 
raise  up  mightier  champions  of  truth  and  virtue." 

"  May,  1839.  I  look  forward  with  peculiar  hope  to  this 
summer.  I  feel  now  as  if  1  had  done  my  duty  in  regard  to 
great  immediate  public  interests,  and  my  desire  and  hope  is 
to  give  myself  to  what  seems  to  me  the  work  of  my  life, — 
the  exposition  of  my  views  of  truth  and  duty.  I  am  not 
sanguine,  yet  hopeful.  1  have  something  to  say,  yet  I  feel 
I  may  not  be  spared  to  do  it;  —  nor  shall  I  count  my  life's 
labor  lost,  if  I  fail ;  for  all  our  action  here  is  but  the  child's 
preparation  for  the  spiritual  manhood  which  awaits  us,  and 
in  ripening  for  this  we  live  gloriously,  though  we  produce 
no  perceptible  outward  effect  now." 

Before  proceeding  to  a  notice  of  this  work  on  Man, 
however,  let  us  first  contemplate  the  position  of  thought 
which  the  author  occupied,  and  breathe  in  the  liberal, 


358  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

inspiring  atmosphere  in  which  he  dwelt.  We  shall  thus 
catch  the  tone  of  his  mind,  and  be  better  prepared  to 
understand,  if  not  to  sympathize  with,  his  views. 

We  will  commence  with  some  sketches  given  by  him- 
self, in  annual  addresses  to  his  people,  of  the  discipline 
by  which  he  had  been  trained  to  freedom  and  tolerance. 

1827.  "  It  has  been  my  lot,  as  you  well  know,  to  per- 
form among  you  the  duties  of  a  minister  in  a  peculiarly  try- 
ing time,  —  in  a  day  of  angry  passions,  and  of  revived  intol- 
erance and  bigotry.  I  was  about  to  say  that  it  had  been  my 
misfortune  to  live  and  preach  in  this  stormy  season.  But 
no ;  I  have  learned  that  the  great  design  of  the  present  life 
is  to  form  the  mind  and  character  by  difficulty  and  conflict, 
and  I  doubt  not»that  the  all-wise  God  has  assigned  to  me.  as 
well  as  to  others,  the  conflict  which  I  need.  It  is  not  un- 
common to  hear  the  wish  expressed  for  peace  ;  and  there  is 
no  one  who  breathes  this  desire  from  the  depth  of  his  soul, 
I  believe,  more  earnestly  than  myself.  One  of  the  greatest 
attractions  to  my  summer  retreat  is  the  shelter  I  find  there 
from  all  the  collisions  of  life  ;  and  sometimes,  when  em- 
bosomed in  that  entire  seclusion,  seeing  nothing  around  me 
but  the  beautiful  order  of  nature,  and  hearing  only  its  melo- 
dies of  winds  and  woods  and  waters,  I  have  said,  '  It  is 
good  to  be  here,'  have  felt  as  if  a  paradise  were  spreading 
round  me,  and  have  shnuik  from  the  thought  of  entering 
again  the  field  of  strife,  and  opening  my  ear  to  new  sounds 
of  discord.  But  I  remember  that  the  virtue  which  flies  to 
the  shade  when  God  gives  a  work  to  be  done  in  the  world, 
which  puts  away  anxiously  every  |)ainful  sight  and  sound,  is 
not  the  virtue  of  Christianity  ;  nor  do  I  believe  that  the 
greatest  happiness,  even  in  this  life,  is  secured  by  escaping 
from  its  conflicts.  Christianity,  indeed,  recommends  and 
promises  peace  to  its  followers.  But  this  is  a  peace  of  in- 
ward origin,  growing  from  the  root  of  a  vigorous  piety  and 


KEHGIOUS    LIBERTY.  359 

Virtue  ;  not  that  which  is  infused  into  us  by  scenes  of  out- 
ward tranquillity.  It  is  a  peace  which  subsists  and  thrives 
amidst  storms,  which  the  world  giveth  not,  antt  cannot  take 
away, —  the  peace  of  a  strong  mind,  not  of  a  yieldino-  one, 
a  peace  which  is  never  more  entire  than  in  moments  of 
undeserved  reproach  and  of  perilous  duty,  when  the  soid, 
conscious  of  upright  pui-pose,  leans  confidently  on  God. 
Notwithstanding  my  love  of  tranquillity,  I  have  felt  called  to 
take  part  in  the  great  struggle  which  is  now  going  on  be- 
tween religious  liberty  and  the  spirit  of  intolerance  and 
domination,  between  an  improving  and  a  corrupted  Chris- 
tianity  ;  and  various  circumstances  have  conspired  to  give 
me  a  prominence  in  this  conflict,  which  I  should  have  been, 

and  am,  the  last  to  covet 

"  Perhaps  the  motives  which  have  governed  me  in  this 
part  of  my  public  career  have  not  been  sufliciently  under- 
stood. It  may  have  been  supposed  by  some  of  you,  that 
was  acting  from  a  vehement  attachment  to  a  particular 
creed  ;  and  it  is  true  that  I  have  a  strong  and  growing  con- 
viction of  the  importance  of  the  prominent  religious  doc- 
trines which  I  teach.  But  another  principle  has  operated  on 
my  mind  more  strongly  than  a  zeal  for  my  particular  opin- 
ions, and  this  is  my  attachment  to  the  cause  of  religious 
liberty.  To  vindicate  the  rights  of  the  mind,  to  maintain 
intellectual  freedom,  to  withstand  intolerance  and  the  spirit 
of  persecution,  to  save  our  churches  from  spiritual  despo- 
tism, —  this  has  been  nearer  my  heart  than  to  secure  a  tri- 
umph to  any  distinguishing  doctrine  of  a  sect. 

"  Soon  after  coming  into  life,  I  saw  that  a  new  era  was 
opening  in  this  country  and  in  this  age,  —  that  a  violent 
struggle  was  commencing  for  the  restoration  of  doctrines 
which  had  gradually  fallen  into  neglect.  The  cry  of  Or- 
thodoxy was  opened,  and  a  system  of  measures  adopted 
for  stifling  free  inquiry.  Vague  apprehensions  were  in- 
dustriously spread   abroad  of   a  secret    conspiracy  against 


360  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHV. 

what  were  called  the  '  Doctrines  of  the  Reformation,'  —  the 
'  Essential  Doctrines  of  Cin-istianity ' ;  and  the  brand  of 
heresy  was  affixed  to  doctrines  which  had  been  espoused  by 
some  of  the  wisest  and  greatest  men  in  this  country  and 
Europe.  It  was  not  so  much  for  the  purpose  of  defending 
these  opinions,  as  of  encouraging  fellow-Christians  to  use 
their  own  minds,  and  to  examine  freely  the  doctrines  of  re- 
ligion, that  I  entered  the  field  of  controversy,  I  felt  then, 
what  I  now  more  deeply  feel,  that  the  human  mind  is  to 
make  progress  by  freedom,  by  the  deliberate,  impartial,  and 
independent  exercise  of  its  faculties.  I  could  not  submit  to 
have  my  intellect  chained  by  men  whom  I  knew  to  have  no 
warrant  for  their  sway,  and  in  some  of  whom  I  saw  plain 
marks  of  inferiority,  both  as  to  understanding  and  heart. 
I  could  not  endure  to  see  chains  fastened  on  others.  I  felt 
the  ignominy  which  we  of  this  enlightened  Commonwealth 
should  incur,  and  with  which  we  should  be  justly  chargeable, 
if  a  few  men  —  for  few  they  were,  and  few  they  still  are  — ■ 
should  be  permitted  to  dictate  to  us  our  opinions  on  the  mosf 
important  subjects  in  the  whole  range  of  thought,  and  should 
frown  into  silence  the  ingenuous  lovers  of  truth.  The  at- 
tempt to  fasten  on  us  an  antiquated  faith,  by  excommuni- 
cating those  who  were  seeking  nobler  views  of  Christianity, 
first  summoned  me  to  conflicts  from  which  I  have  not  yet 
been  released.  The  part  which  I  have  taken  I  have  had  no 
cause  to  regret.  My  love  of  freedom  has  grown  with  the 
growth  of  my  mind.  It  is  now  interwoven  with  all  my  re- 
ligious feelings,  and  with  all  my  sympathies  and  benevolent 
sentiments  ;  for  I  am  persuaded  that  the  glory  of  God,  or 
just  and  ennobling  conceptions  of  his  character,  and  the 
happiness  and  progress  of  the  human  race,  demand  nothing 
so  urgently  as  that  our  faculties  should  be  unimpeded,  and 
the  widest  range  be  given  to  thought.  If  we  are  to  grow, 
it  must  be  by  a  free  use  of  our  powers.  If  we  arc  to  at- 
tain brighter  and  more  enlarged  conceptions  of  Christianity, 


PURE    CllRISriAMITY.  361 

we  must  begin  with  feeling  that  past  ages  have  not  exhaust- 
ed Christian  truth,  and  tliat  we  may  make  advances  on  the 
wisdom  of  our  fathers.  I  know  nothing  wlnich  indicates 
greater  ignorance  of  the  history  of  tlie  Church  and  of  the 
history  of  mankind,  nothing  more  fitted  to  reduce  the  intel- 
lect to  imbecility,  and  to  carry  back  the  race  to  barbarism, 
than  the  idea  that  we  have  nothing  more  to  learn,  that 
Christianity  has  come  down  to  us  pure  and  perfect,  and  that 
our  only  duty  is  implicitly  to  receive  the  lessons  of  our  cate  • 
chisms.  I  am  sure  that  this  is  not  true.  That  Christianity 
has  been  dreadfully  disfigured,  all  true  hearts  must  know. 
That  it  was  purified  from  all  corruptions  by  the  first  Reform- 
ers is  to  suppose  them  gifted  with  miraculous  lights  as 
bright  as  those  which  beamed  on  the  Apostles.  Christianity 
IS  not  thus  purified.  None  of  us  hold  it  in  its  purity.  I  feel 
deeply  the  imperfections  of  all  classes  and  denominations  • 
and  the  hopes  of  Christianity  rest  on  the  courage  and  piety 
of  men  who,  disclaiming  all  human  authority,  and  the  fet- 
ters of  all  creeds,  give  themselves  to  deliberate,  devout, 
feavless  study  of  God's  word,  in  connection  with  his  works 
and  providence.  Freedom  of  intellect,  joined  with  obedi- 
ence to  whatever  truth  is  already  known,  is  the  appointed 
spirit  and  energy  by  which  the  Chui'ch  and  the  world  are  to 
be  disenthralled  from  the  many  errors  which  yet  darken  re- 
ligion jmd  impair  its  ennobling  influence. 

"  If  my  own  faculties  have  made  any  progress,  I  owe  it 
to  nothing  so  much  as  to  the  spirit  of  intellectual  freedom 
which  I  have  imbibed  ;  and  the  place  of  this,  I  believe,  no 
endowments  of  nature,  no  books,  no  association  with  learned 
men,  would  in  any  measure  have  supplied.  It  was  my  lot 
to  come  forward  at  a  period  when  the  question  was  to  be 
settled  whether  this  freedom  should  be  enjoyed,  or  whether 
an  inquisition,  with  ministers  at  its  head,  should  bind  the 
chains  of  death  on  the  mind  of  this  country.  God's  good 
providence,  joined   with  an   eax'ly  disposition  to  live  and  to 

VOL.    II.  31 


362  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

think  alone,  and  with  an  education  which  had  made  freedom 
dear,  decided  the  part  which  I  took.  The  decision  whicli  I 
made  in  tliis  great  controversy,  the  cause  which  I  espoused, 
and  I  hope  I  may  say  the  consistency  with  which  1  have  ad- 
hered to  it,  you  know.  My  ministry,  amidst  all  its  imper- 
fections, has,  I  think,  been  uniformly  marked  by  an  asse'rtion 
of  the  rights  and  duty  of  every  individual  to  exert  his  own 
faculv.es,  and  by  urging  on  every  man  the  duty  of  using  his 
best  powers,  in  the  free,  unbiasea  investigation  of  religious 
truth.  I  trust  that  I  have  not  been  wholly  useless.  That  I 
have  contributed  something  to  give  to  others  courage  in 
thinking  and  in  expressing  their  thoughts,  I  trust;  and  I  have 
not  a  doubt  that,  at  this  moment,  this  whole  country  is  in- 
debted to  the  exertion  made  in  this  our  city  for  the  degree 
of  religious  liberty  which  it  enjoys. 

"  I  have  stated  what  has  been  my  leading  ami  in  the  con- 
troversies in  which  I  have  mingled.  I  now  return  tc  you, 
my  hearers,  not  merely  with  undiminished,  but  with  an  in- 
creased, desire  to  respect  and  uphold  your  intellectual  free- 
dom, and  to  defend  this  great  cause  of  the  human  race.  1 
bring  with  me  no  desire  to  dictate,  to  force  upon  othei-s  my 
own  views,  to  awe,  to  intimidate,  or  to  use  any  weapons  but 
those  of  reason  and  persuasion.  I  am  more  and  more 
shocked  with  the  tyranny  of  the  pulpit,  with  the  abuse 
of  the  influence  which  this  sacred  place  affords,  with  the 
desire  of  the  teachers  of  religion  to  be  heard  as  oracles, 
■with  the  hardihood  with  which  they  make  a  partisan  of  tho 
Supreme  Being." 

1630.  "  On  one  point,  you  will  bear  me  witness.  I  have 
never  aimed  to  alienate  you  from  any  body  of  Christians. 
I  am  not  conscious  of  having  yielded  to  a  sectariati  spirit, 
even  when  I  contended  most  earnestly  for  my  peculiar  views. 
I  have  never  thought  myself  a  better  man  because  I  have 
escaped  what  seem  to  me  gross  errors  prevailing  in  Chris- 


RESPECT    FOR    OPPONENTS.  363 

tendon),  nor  have  I,  as  I  believe,  ever  shut  my  eyes  on  the 
virtue  and  piety  of  those  by  whom  these  errors  may  have 
been  sustained.  I  have  felt  that  it  is  not  tffe  greatness  of 
our  light,  but  our  faithfulness  to  our  light,  whether  great 
or  small,  by  which  character  is  to  be  judged.  If  I  have 
ever  infused  unkind  or  disparaging  feelings  towards  other 
Christians,  I  have  grievously  injured  you,  and,  instead  of 
being  a  minister  _of  righteousness,  have  been  the  minis- 
ter of  sin.  May  you  triumph  over  any  such  unhappy  in- 
fluence ! 

"  One  of  your  trials  arises  from  the  state  of  the  Christian 
world,  to  which  reference  has  now  been  made ;  and  I  would 
offer  you,  on  this  point,  a  few  words  of  counsel.  Our  prin- 
cipal duties  in  such  circumstances  may  be  expressed  in  two 
plain  precepts :  —  Respect  those  who  differ  from  you^  and 
also  respect  yourselves.  Give  due  honor  to  men  of  different 
sects.  Do  not  feel  as  if  you  had  monopolized  truth  or  good- 
ness. Treat  none  with  derision.  Esteem  no  man  the  more 
for  thinking  as  you  do,  and  no  man  the  less  for  thinking 
otherwise  ;  but  judge  all  men  by  the  principles  wiiich  govern 
their  lives.  Ascribe  not  what  you  deem  error  to  weakness 
of  intellect  or  corruption  of  heart,  but  rejoice  in  witnessing 
superior  powers  and  tried  virtue  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
what  you  cannot  but  account  superstition  or  prejudice. 
Never  think  of  Christ's  church  as  shut  up  within  limits  of 
human  invention,  but  as  comprehending  all  sects,  and  let 
your  attachment  to  the  whole  triumph  over  your  interest 
in  any  of  its  parts.     Honor  all  men. 

"  At  the  same  time  respect  yourselves.  Claiming  no  su- 
periority, allow  not  this  claim  in  others.  Expect  ard  re- 
quire from  others  the  same  deference  which  you  feel  your- 
selves bound  to  pay.  As  you  set  up  no  pretensions  to  ex- 
clusive sanctity  in  yourselves,  distrust  them  in  your  neigh- 
bour. The  exclusive  saint  bears  one  broad  marls,  of  the 
want  of  sanctity.     The  real  Christian  is  the  last  man  to  be 


364  RELIGION    AND    FHILOSOPHV. 

a  pretender.  Never  suffer  your  opinions  to  be  treated  with 
scorn  in  social  intercourse,  any  more  than  you  would  youi 
characters ;  but  whilst  you  force  them  on  none,  let  men  see 
tliat  you  reverence  them  as  the  truth,  and  that  you  expect 
decorum  and  courtesy  in  those  who  converse  with  you  on 
this,  as  on  other  deeply  interesting  subjects.  Always  feel 
yourselves  standing  on  the  ground  of  equality  with  every 
sect  and  party,  and  countenance  none  by  your  tameness,  or 
by  shrinking  from  your  convictions,  to  assume  towards  you 
a  tone  of  dictation,  superiority,  or  scorn.  Be  true  to  your- 
selves and  to  your  principles.  One  of  the  great  lessons 
taught  me  by  my  experience  is,  that  self-respect,  founded, 
not  on  outward  distinction,  but  on  the  essential  power  and 
rights  of  human  nature,  is  the  guardian  of  virtue,  and  itself 
among  the  chief  of  virtues." 

The  last  sentence  of  the  foregoing  extract  gives  us 
insight  into  one  of  Dr.  Channing's  chief  springs  of  action. 
Though  naturally  diffident  and  modest  by  principle,  though 
conscientious  and  cautious  almost  to  an  extreme,  and 
though  even  reverential  to  his  fellow-men  of  every  grade 
of  intellect  and  character,  he  was  at  the  same  time  singu- 
larly self-relying.  On  his  calm  and  gentle  countenance 
there  reposed  an  expression  of  firm  dignity,  which  com- 
manded a  just  deference.  His  very  consciousness  of  the 
greatness  of  the  human  spirit  in  its  essential  powers  and 
heavenly  destination  made  him  incapable  of  trifling  with 
another  or  of  submitting  to  be  trifled  with.  He  felt,  too, 
that  the  claims  of  honor  and  manly  courtesy,  as  well  as 
of  Christian  charity,  were  sadly  slighted  by  religious  con- 
troversialists, and  sought,  therefore,  to  carry  into  the 
sphere  of  theological  discussion  the  san)C  generous  and 
magnanimous,  while  self-balanced  and  brave,  spirit  which 
becomes   high-minded   persons   in  all   their  uitercourse. 


DANGERS    OF    CONTROVERSY.  365 

This  trait  was  so  characteristic,  that  it  may  be  well  to 
illustrate  it  by  some  passages  from  his  papep  and  letters 

1823.  "  It  was  intended  that  the  Christian  Disciple  should 
he  distinguished  by  proposing  as  its  great  end,  not  the  de- 
fence of  particular  opinions  so  much  as  the  spreading  of  the 
mild,  candid,  and  tolerant  spirit  of  Christianity.  It  was  be- 
lieved  that  the  best  service  which  can  be  rendered  to  the 
truth  is  to  bring  men's  minds  into  that  dispassionate  and 
benevolent  frame  which  is  congenial  with  truth,  and,  like  the 
gift  of  sight  to  the  blind,  lets  in  at  once  new  light  and  wide 

and  unexpected  views The  plan  of  the  work  is 

now  to  be  extended,  and  it  will  be  made  the  vehicle  of  arti- 
cles which  may  at  once  explain  the  views  of  its  friends,  and 
repel  the  attacks  so  often  made,  both  on  their  opinions  and 
characters.  To  this  duty  the  editors  are  unhappily  called  by 
a  long  experience  of  the  utter  inefficacy  of  silence  and  en- 
durance to  disarm  prejudice  and  produce  a  more  tranquil 

and  dispassionate  state  of  the  public  mind 

"  They  are  not  insensible  to  the  dangers  of  controversy, 
and  are  aware  that  men,  in  disputing  for  what  they  call  truth, 
lose  the  very  virtues  which  truth  should  promote,  —  candor, 
sincerity,  and  good-will,  —  and  that  they  are  tempted  to 
compass  their  ends  by  misrepresentation  and  calumny.  But 
it  is  not  impossible,  they  conceive,  to  be  at  once  earnest  and 
honest  disputants,  to  unite  zeal  for  a  system  with  readiness 
to  renounce  it  if  it  should  be  proved  false,  to  oppose  a  man's 
opinions  without  hating  his  person.  Controvei-sy  may  be  fair 
and  generous,  and  if  the  conductors  of  this  work  can  demon- 
strate this  by  example,  they  will  render  a  rare  service  to  the 

Christian  community By  the  fair  and  kind  spirit 

of  controversy  we  mean  a  disposition  to  state  the  opinions  of 
an  adversary  truly,  to  meet  the  full  force  of  his  arguments, 
to  acknowledge  his  intelligence  and  virtues,  to  respect  his 
motives  while  we  expose  his  opinions,  to  avoid  expressioDS 
31* 


^6Q  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

of  irritation  and  ill-will,  to  seek  truth  and  not  the  humiliation 
of  an  adverse  party.  There  may,  indeed,  be  a  necessity  for 
personalities  in  controversy,  and  this  takes  place  when  an 
opponent  relies  for  success  on  abuse,  malignity,  and  dishon- 
est statements.  Justice  may  demand  a  free  exposure  of  such 
base  practices.  But  the  necessity  is  always  to  be  lamented, 
and  the  friends  of  truth  will  be  anxious  to  prevent  points  in 
dispute  from  being  complicated  with  the  characters  of  indi- 
viduals and  circumstances  of  irritation." 

1826.  "  The  temper  of  the  sermon*  is  arraigned.  If  the 
author  has  said  a  word  to  make  Trinitarians  odious,  to  rob 
them  of  their  Christian  rights  or  of  the  love  and  esteem  of 
their  brethren,  let  him  be  condemned.  No  matter  from 
what  party  an  unkind,  censorious,  intolerant  spirit  proceeds, 
it  is  evil,  unchristian,  and  a  sure  proof  that  he  who  possesses 
it  has  not  drunk  largely  into  the  spirit  of  Jesus  Christ.  Any 
publication  tending  to  spread  bitterness  through  any  denomi- 
nation should  be  disowned 

"  The  temper  of  the  discourse  is  censured.  Why  ?  Be- 
cause it  expresses  anger  or  unkindness  towards  opponents  ? 
Is  there  the  least  impeachment  of  their  motives  ?  Not  a  word 
to  this  effect  can  be  found  in  the  discourse.  The  author  has 
only  set  forth  in  plain  and  strong  language  what  seems  to 
him  to  be  irrational  and  dishonorable  to  God  and  injurious  to 
the  human  character  in  the  system  which  he  is  opposing. 
He  expressly  states  that  he  has  no  disposition  to  make  the 
opinions  he  condemns  measures  of  character,  and  cordially 
acknowledges  the  virtues  of  multitudes  who  espouse  them. 
And  is  it,  then,  '  uncourtcous,'  '  reprehensible,'  '  unjusti- 
fiable,' '  mexcusable,'  to  say  that  an  opinion  is  absurd  and 
of  degrading  tendency .'' We   invite   our  fellow- 

*  Sermon  ut  the  Dedication  of  the  Second  Congregational  Church, 
New  York, 


OPPOSITION    TO    ERRCR  367 

Christians  to  examine  freely  our  opinions,  and  to  tell  us 
plainly  what  they  see  in  them  dishonorable  to  God  or  inju- 
rious to  man.  The  freer  such  discussion,  the  better.  Let 
opinions  be  spoken  of  unreservedly.  We  blame  no  class  of 
Christians  for  exposing  the  absurdities  and  weak  points  of 
prevailing  creeds.  We  only  say  to  them,  '  Do  not  judge  the 
motives  of  your  brethren  in  embracing  the  opinions  which 
you  reject.  Do  not  shut  your  eyes  on  their  virtues,  because 
they  adopt  different  views.  Rejoice  in  the  proofs  of  their 
piety,  coupled  though  it  may  be  with  error.  Error  is  not 
guilt.  Do  not  blame  them  for  not  yielding  to  your  argu- 
ments ;  your  judgment  may  be  as  fallible  as  theirs.  In  a 
word,  esteem  them  and  love  them  as  heartily  as  if  their 
creed  was  your  own.'  If  the  sermon  fails  in  this  generous 
feeling,  let  it  be  condemned 

"  It  should  be  considered,  that  false  doctrines,  just  so  far 
as  they  are  wide-spread  and  deeply  rooted,  need  free  and 
firm  resistance.  Men  through  long  use  grow  blind  and 
callous  to  their  inconsistency.  Old  errors  must  be  placed 
in  new  lights  and  broadly  exposed.  Such  was  the  principle 
on  which  this  sermon  was  written,  and  we  venture  to  say, 
that,  if  any  individual  would  do  good,  he  must  adopt  this 
course.  Is  it  said,  men  thus  opposed  will  be  exasperated  ? 
We  answer,  they  may  be  at  Jirst,  but  they  will  learn  by  de- 
grees to  bear  with  frankness  ;  whilst,  if  they  are  accustomed 
to  have  -heir  worst  opinions  treated  with  deference,  they 
witi  ;on.inue  foolishly  sensitive  to  the  faintest  contradiction. 
But  we  repeat  that  the  bolder  the  opposition  to  opinions, 
the  greater  should  be  the  care  to  avoid  personalities 

"  There  are  good  men  who  will  say  that  it  is  impossible  to 
make  this  separation  between  opinions  and  those  who  hold 
them,  that  to  attack  the  first  is  to  exasperate  the  last,  and 
that  peace  is  so  great  a  good  as  to  make  it  better  to  leave 
errors  to  the  power  of  time  than  to  create  controversy. 
We  answer,  that  truth  is  a  greater  good  than  peace,  that  we 


368  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHV. 

do  not  des^  air  of  the  progress  of  the  human  mind  and  virtue, 
that  \vc  know  those  who  differ  in  views  yet  who  love  one  an- 
other, and  that  on  the  whole  there  is  a  growing  forbearance 
and  moderation  amidst  the  freest  discussions.  Men  who, 
when  treated  with  respect  and  kindness,  will  not  allow  their 
opinions  to  be  touched,  and  resent  earnest  exposure  of  their 
supposed  errors  as  wrong,  are  alone  responsible  if  contro- 
versy is  embittered ;  nor  must  we  shut  up  in  our  own  breasts 
what  we  deem  great  truths,  lest  some  sensitive  persons  should 
be  wounded 

"In  the  Trinitarian  theology  we  see,  as  we  believe,  a 
principal  obstruction  to  a  purer  piety  and  more  exalted  mo- 
rality. We  acquit  those  who  hold  it  of  any  desire  to  with- 
stand this  progress.  Still  the  system  seems  to  us  false  and 
pernicious,  and  one  which  ought  to  be  exposed.  There  are 
peculiar  reasons  for  exposing  it.  Its  chief  prop  in  the  com- 
munity, as  we  think,  is  fear.  Multitudes  believe  that  to 
doubt  about  it  is  to  be  damned.  Their  minds  are  spell- 
bound. They  dare  not  exert  their  faculties  in  these  myste- 
ries. They  are  too  sacred  to  be  touched.  The  spirits  thus 
enthralled  should  be  set  free  from  these  heavy  chains  of 
terror.  They  cannot  move  a  step  towards  truth  without 
courage  to  think.  And  this  courage  can  be  re-awakened  in 
the  community  only  by  examples  of  frank,  strong,  earnest 
discussion.  Better  is  it,  far  better,  to  rouse  some  bad  pas- 
sions, than  to  perpetuate  the  prevalent  slavery  and  lethargy. 

"  Some  there  may  be  who  will  say,  '  The  world  will  go  on 
as  it  has  done ;  why  disturb  it  in  the  vain  hope  of  enlighten- 
ing it  ?  '  We  have  not  so  learned  the  wisdom  of  Jesus.  We 
beheve  that  Christianity  is  destined  to  exert  a  mighty  energy 
on  the  human  soul,  that  the  piety  which  prevails,  however 
sincere,  is  greatly  debased  by  erroneous  views,  and  that  just 
as  far  as  purer  thoughts  of  God  and  of  his  purposes  prevail, 
a  holier  and  more  divine  spirit  will  be  diffused.  We  dare 
not,  then,  as  we  would  be  true  to  our  Master  or  to  our  own 


AVERSION    TO    CONTROVERSY.  369 

consciences,  refrain  from  an  open  and  strong  testimony  to 
what  we  deem  the  truth.  We  would  do  it  in  all  charity. 
We  would  not,  for  the  universe,  sully  one  goocl  man's  hon- 
est  name.  We  would  not  question  the  worth  of  those  whom 
we  are  summoned  to  oppose.  But  we  must  speak  freely, 
earnestly,  and  fearlessly,  and  we  would  encourage  freedom 
of  thought  and  speech  in  all  men  as  our  noblest  birthright." 

1825.*     "  I  received  from  Mr.  Kinder,  the  other  day,  Mr. 
Wellbeloved's  Letters  to  Wrangham,  for  which  I  thank  him, 
and  which  I  read  with  much  satisfaction.     You  may  have 
perceived  that  I  do  not  entirely  sympathize  with  the  Unitari- 
ans of  England,  and  their  system  seems  to  me  to  need  some 
important  modifications  to  make  it  correspond  with  the  deep- 
est  wants  of  our  nature,  and  with  some  of  the  strongest  im- 
pressions  which   the  Scriptures  give   to  plain,  unprejudiced 
mmds.     But  still  I  feel  with  great  indignation  the  wrongs 
done  to  them  by  such  men  as  Magee  and  Wrangham,  and 
Providence  seems  to  me  to  smile  upon  them  in  raising  up 
among  them  vindicators  so  powerful  and  so  distinguished  by 
the  spirit  of  Christianity  as  Carpenter  and  Wellbeloved.     I 
regret  that  I  did  not  see  these  excellent  men,  for  such  I  am 
authorized  to  esteem  them  by  the  concurrent  testimony  of 
all  who  know  them." 

"  Sept.  19,  1827.t  I  find  an  increasing  aversion  to  this 
mode  of  controversy.  What  an  example  we  give  to  men  of 
the  world  !  Where  will  you  find  more  invective  than  among 
us  Christians?  My  wish  is  to  expose  doctrines  most  fully"^ 
hut  to  let  individuals  alone.  I  know  the  answer, —  ' Must 
unprincipled  men  have  the  field  to  themselves .?  Must  not 
good  men  defend  themselves  ?  Must  not  vice  be  called  by 
lis  right  name  }  '  &c.     In  all  this  there  is  truth  ;  but  it  seems 

•  To  Mrs.  L.  Kinder.  f  To  Joseph  Tuckerman,  D.  D. 


370  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

to  me  we  have  yet  to  learn  the  weapons  which  the  good 
must  oppose  to  the  bad.  Vh'tue  has  not  learned  her  true 
tone  yet.  It  is  the  tone  of  conscious  superiority^  and  this, 
I  apprehend,  is  always  calm,  and  expressive  of  unaffected 
dignity.  It  feels  a  strength  in  itself,  and  is  not  therefore 
disturbed  by  clamor.  I  can  conceive  of  a  tone  of  insulted 
virtue,  which  will  be  at  once  mild  and  awful,  and  will  be 
felt  by  the  multitude,  though  betraying  no  emotion.  This 
we  want.  Who  has  it }  When  I  conceive  of  this,  and 
compare  with  it  the  ordinary  tone  of  controversy,  I  am  dis- 
satisfied  

"  I  could  have   been  amused  with  your  account  of  your 

conversation  with  ,  had  he  spared  liis   compliment   at 

the  end,  —  '  You  are  an  honest  man.'  There  is  insolence 
in  this  concession  of  honesty  to- us.  These  exclusive  pre- 
tenders to  piety  seem  to  think  that  they  confer  a  great  favor 
by  admitting  that  we  are  not  unprincipled.  You  performed 
your  part  to  admiration.  When  will  men  who  hold  great 
truth  feel  what  they  owe  to  it,  and  meet  the  assumptions 
of  others  with  a  righteous  confidence  ?  I  fear  you  will  think 
I  am  somewhat  belligerent  in  my  feelings;  but  I  was  never 
calmer,  and  should  not  have  thought  of  religious  controversy 
but  for  your  letter." 

"  August  30,  1839.*  I  have  received  many  insulting 
tnomjvious  letters  in  the  course  of  the  last  thirty  years, 
out  never  before,  as  far  as  I  can  recollect,  received  an 
nsultinji  communication  from  an  individual  claiming  to  be 
«garded  as  a  Christian  or  a  gentleman.  As  far  as  I  am 
lersonally  concerned,  the  matter  gives  me  not  the  slightest 
mcasiness  ;  but  it  is  painful  to  me,  as  a  Christian  and  a 
rfiember  of  society,  to  sec  a  leader  in  the  Church  failing 
hort   of  the   common   decencies    and   courtesies   of   life. 

•  To  Orville  Dowcy,  D.  D. 


MILDNESS    AND    FIRMNESS.  371 

Whether  the  pamphlets  were  sent  by  a  Unitarian  minister  is 
of  course  doubtful.  I  hope  they  were  not ;  for  anonymous 
writing  is  always  open  to  objection.  But  b©  this  as  it  may, 
in  fastening  on  me  without  a  shadow  of  reason  as  the  of- 
fender, and  in  writing  to  me  as  has  done,   he    has 

been  guilty  of  a  rudeness,  which,  by  the  common  law  of  so- 
oi(;ty,  respectable  people  do  not  practise  towards  each  other. 
I  write  this,  not  that  I  desire  any  apology  ;  for,  having  done 
this  duty,  I  shall  dismiss  the  matter  from  my  thoughts;  but 
if  you   are   acquainted    with   any    right-minded,  honorable 

men  of 's  congregation,  you  will  do  well   to  state  the 

matter  to  them,  that  they  may  counsel  him  to  abstain  from 
such  discreditable  proceedings,  fitted  only  to  breed  strife 
within  the  Church,  and  to  bring  reproach  on  it  from  abroad. 

"  P.  S.  Perhaps  you  may  think  the  matter  about  which  I 
have  written  you  too  unimportant  to  be  spoken  of,  and  if  so, 
do  say  nothing  about  it,  for,  I  assure  you,  I  have  not  the 
slightest  sensibility  on  the  point.  Long  use  has  hardened 
me  to  attacks,  especially  from  professed  theological  com- 
batants. The  question  is  simply,  — '  Can  any  good  come 
from  the  matter  }  '  " 

Thus  bold  and  strong,  and  even  sternly  just,  was  Dr. 
Channing  in  guarding  the  rights  of  all  seekers  of  truth. 
His  mildness  was  free  from  mawkishness.  He  treated 
others,  and  expected  to  be  treated,  with  a  manly  decis- 
ion. Practically  he  made  the  discrimination  between 
ofunions  and  persons  which  he  so  constantly  urged  as 
a  di  ty.  He  asked  for  his  errors  no  tolerance  ;  he 
only  demanded  justice  as  a  man.  This  frank,  straight- 
forward honesty  of  mind  did  not  contract,  but  deepened 
and  widened,  his  liberality.  He  looked  round  respectful- 
ly and  earnestly  upon  all  fellow-inquirers,  hoping  to  gain 


372 


RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 


!rom  them  the  light  for  which  his  whole  spirit  was  long- 
ing. This  temper  of  mind  may  be  best  illustrated  by  a 
few  manifestations  of  it,  as  given  in  his  letters. 

"  Boston,  February  26,  1836.*  I  am  not  a  stranger  to 
your  writings.  Your  Letters  on  Spain  were  very  interesting 
to  me,  and  made  me  desirous  to  see  every  thing  from  your 
pen.  I  thank  you  for  your  testimony  to  great  truths  ;  for  the 
clear  hght  in  wliich  you  have  placed  them;  and,  above  all, 
for  the  ardent  and  all-sacrificing  love  of  truth,  which  has 
given  so  singular  a  direction  to  your  life.  It  would  give 
me  great  delight  to  be  near  you,  to  learn  from  your  own 
lips  the  history  of  your  mind,  of  your  doubts,  researches, 
and  illuminations,  of  your  joy  in  reaching  a  brighter  light, 
and  of  your  trials,  obstacles,  discouragements,  and  sufferings. 
I  trust,  I  cannot  doubt,  that  you  find,  in  your  more  spiritual 
and  enlarged  views  of  Christianity,  in  your  more  filial  views 
of  God,  abundant  compensations  for  sufferings.  I  have 
wished  you  would  give  us,  or  leave  behind  you,  an  auto- 
biography; With  what  eagerness  should  I  devour  such  a 
work !  The  progress  of  every  mind  is  interesting ;  but  how 
few  minds  have  travelled  such  a  path  as  yours!  On  one 
subject,  I  should  be  very  glad  to  have  the  fruits  of  your  ob- 
servation. We  all  feel  that  there  is  an  evil  to  be  deplored 
in  the  Christian  world  far  more  than  doctrinal  errors ;  and 
that  is,  the  unfaithfulness  of  Christians  to  the  Hght  which 
they  have  attained.  We  are  sometimes  almost  tempted  to 
say  that  Christianity  is  but  a  name,  so  little  is  its  power  felt. 
I  should  like  to  know  among  what  bodies  of  Christians  there 
lias  S(^emed  to  you  to  be  the  greatest  fidelity  to  their  convic- 
tions, be  these  convictions  just  or  not.  I  should  like  to 
know  what  particular  views  of  our  religion  have  seemed  to 
you  to  take  the  strongest  hold  on  the  human   mind  ;  what 

•  To  J.  Blanro  White. 


DESIRE    OF    PROGRESS.  373 

causes  cor. tribute  most  to  the  general  unfaithfulness,  and 
what  seem  to  you  the  most  effectual  means  of  resisting 
them.  That  the  great  moral  purpose  of  Chmtianlty  is  so 
little  answered  would  be  the  most  painful  of  all  thoughts, 
had  not  habit  seared  us  to  it." 

"  Boston,  July  29,  1836.*  Your  experience  is  a  type  of 
the  world's  history.  You  have  passed,  in  your  short  life, 
through  the  stages  which  centuries  are  required  to  accom- 
plish in  the  case  of  the  race.  When  I  see  in  an  individual 
mind  such  transitions  from  error  to  large  and  sustaining 
views  of  God  and  human  destiny,  I  see  a  pledge  of  the  tri- 
umphs of  truth  in  which  the  struggles  of  ages  are  to  termi- 
nate. By  this  I  do  not  mean  that  you  or  I  have  attained  to 
much  truth.  I  am  speaking  of  your  present  mind  only  in 
comparison  with  the  past.  Undoubtedly  what  you  and  1 
call  light  seems  obscurity  to  higher  intelligences,  and  will 
seem  so  to  more  improved  periods  of  society.  But  we  have 
gained  something  through  spiritual  effort,  conflict,  —  and 
this  is  a  pledge  of  greater  attainment  to  ourselves  and  the 
race.     May  our  hearts  swell  with  bright  anticipations ! 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  are  to  write  the  history  of  your 
mind.  I  grieve  that  I  may  not  see  it ;  but  I  would  not  pre- 
cipitate its  publication.  How  I  should  delight  to  talk  with 
you  of  the  doubts,  trials,  through  which  you  have  made 
your  way !  I  should  be  glad  to  know  what  you  think  of  the 
probable  results  of  the  great  efforts  now  made  by  Catholi- 
cism to  regain  its  lost  sceptre.  Some  of  the  sects  in  this 
country  are  quite  alarmed,  and,  what  is  very  striking,  the 
greatest  alarm  is  among  those  who  think  themselves  about 
as  infallible  as  the  Pope.  Have  they  a  consciousness,  that, 
if  men  are  to  choose  between  different  infallibilities,  they 
will  be  apt  to  choose  the  Pope's  as  the  oldest  and  sustained 

*  To  J.  Blanco  White. 
VOL.    II.  32 


374  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

by  most  votes  ?  Have  they  a  consciousness  of  laying  down 
the  very  principles  on  which  Romanism  rests,  and  do  they 
therefore  fear  that  consistency  will  carry  over  their  converts 
to  the  mother  church  ?  I  have  been  thinking  lately  of  pre- 
paring a  few  lectures  on  the  fundamental,  great  idea  on 
which  each  church  or  sect  is  built,  and  of  expounding  by 
this  the  past  history  and  future  prospects  of  each.  I  form 
plans,  however,  only  to  see  them  fail.  By  much  quiet,  I 
feel  myself  in  comfortable  health,  and  am  advancing  in  life, 
accomplishing  hardly  any  thing  which  I  propose.  I  do  not, 
however,  repine.  I  am  not  needed  by  God.  That  I  am 
suffered  to  do  any  thing,  I  owe  to  his  goodness ;  and  that 
goodness,  I  trust,  is  leading  me  onward  wisely,  by  disap- 
pointment, privation,  as  well  as  success,  to  spheres  of  action 
beyond  all  imagination  and  hope." 

"  September  10,  18.37.*  I  thank  you  for  the  effort  you 
made  to  write  mc  in  May  last,  when  you  were  laboring  un- 
der severe  indisposition.  You  will  be  rewarded,  when  I  tell 
you  how  much  pleasure  your  letter  gave  me.  I  am  so  liable 
to  self-distrust,  that  the  confirmation  of  my  views  by  those 
who  have  had  peculiar  advantages  for  judging  them  wisely 
gives  me  relief  and  strength.  I  know  no  one  whose  opin- 
ion of  my  Letter  on  Catholicism  I  should  value  as  much  as 
your  own.  The  essay,  indeed,  was  an  humble  one,  hardly 
worth  the  notice  you  gave  it.  Still,  to  know  that  I  have  ex- 
pressed some  great  truth,  even  in  so  humble  a  form,  is  a 
happiness.  To  know  that  I  have  escaped  the  extravagances 
and  prejudices  into  which  difference  of  faith  so  commonly 
leads  is  a  relief.  The  fear  of  giving  circulation  to  error 
has  made  me  almost  too  cautious  about  giving  my  mind  to 
the  public.  In  this  state  of  mind,  it  has  been  a  comfort  to 
me  to  see  my  writings  subjected  to  unsparing  criticism.     If 

•  To  J.  Blanco  White. 


INFALLIBILITY.  375 

I  have  published  little  myself,  I  have  drawn  out  a  great 
many  publications  from  others  ;  so  that  I  trust  that  my  mis- 
takes will  do  no  great  harm.  Should  a  few  ytnrs  of  tolera- 
ble health  be  given  me,  I  shall  not  regret  that  I  have  defer- 
red writing  on  many  subjects  ;  for  many  mists  which  once 
hung"  over  them  have  been  scattered,  and  I  shall  write  with 
greater  consciousness  of  seeing  my  way  plain  before  me. 

"  Your  remarks  about  infallibility  in  your  letter  and  vari- 
ous publications  are  very  interesting.  One  thing  must  make 
us  indulgent  towards  many  of  the  ardent  champions  of  in- 
fallibility. They  feel  as  if  there  were  no  medium  between 
this  and  utter  skepticism.  The  dread  of  losing  hold  of  vital 
truths  is  what  produces  in  multitudes  a  shrinking  from  doubt 
and  investigation.  They  suspect  little  that  they  are  betray- 
ing a  singular  distrust  of  these  truths,  by  their  anxiety  to 
keep  them  from  being  called  in  question,  ^t  is  not  suffi- 
ciently considered,  that  infallibility,  to  be  good  for  any  thing, 
must  be  sustained  by  infallible  reasoning ;  and  this  furnishes 
an  argument  against  Catholicism  which  is  not  always  brought 
out  with  sufficient  clearness.  The  Catholic  Church,  starting 
from  the  fallibleness  of  individuals,  requires  them  to  bow 
to  an  infallible  head  or  tribunah  But  unless  the  individual 
be  infallible,  in  settling  the  question  where  the  infalliblencss 
resides,  he  is  left  in  as  much  uncertainty  as  if  it  did  not  ex- 
ist. Individual  infalliblencss  is  thus  essentially  involved  in 
Eomanism,  although  the  denial  of  it  is  the  very  foundation 
on  which  the  system  rests." 

' "  Boston,  July  10,  l{d38.*  You  would  probably  say 
something  in  which  I  could  not  join  you  ;  but  where  I  see 
proofs  of  a  sincere  love  to  truth  and  mankind,  I  wish  a  man 
to  give  out  his  whole  mind.  Undoubtedly  he  will  send 
forth  error,  for  this  is  a  condition  of  all  human  speculations; 

Draft  of  a  letter  to  J.  Blanco  White. 


376  RELIGION   AND   PHILOSOPHY. 

but  in  his  free  spiritual  activity,  he  must  have  caught  some 
new  glimpses  of  truth  ;  he  must  furnish  hints,  at  least,  by 
which  future  thinkers  may  profit.  I  have  often  received  most 
salutary  impulses  from  works  with  which  I  have  not  agreed. 
The  danger  of  most  of  us  is,  that  we  narrow  ourselves  to 
particular  trains  of  thought,  and  from  this  an  opponent  is 
more  likely  to  save  us  than  any  other  person.  Indeed,  I 
owe  my  highest  convictions  of  truth  to  its  ablest  opponents ; 
for  I  never  feel  my  grasp  of  it  so  firm,  as  after  knowing  the 
strength  of  all  that  can  be  objected  to  it.  I  should  expect 
from  you,  however,  other  aid  than  this  ;  for  though  in  some 
things  we  should  difl^er,  in  how  many  should  we  agree  ! " 

"  September  18,  1839.*  How  happy  should  I  be  to  talk 
with  you  of  your  history,  and  to  get  your  views  (among 
other  subjects)  ^f  the  late  Popish  explosion  at  Oxford  !  Not 
that  this  is  matter  of  surprise.  I  am  prepared  for  such 
bursts  of  Romanism.  This  system  could  not  have  lasted  so 
long,  or  spread  so  far,  without  some  deep  foundations  in  our 
nature.  The  ideas,  or  names,  of  Church  and  Antiquity  are 
potent  spells.  Men,  in  their  weakness,  ignorance,  and  sloth, 
delight  in  the  shelter  they  find  in  a  vast  and  time-hallowed 
organization.  How  strong  and  bold  we  become,  when 
backed  by  crowds,  and  great  names,  and  the  authority  of 
ages !  It  is  ni  wonderful  that  Romanism  should  revive  at 
this  moment,  wnen  a  morbid  dread  of  innovation  is  reacting 
against  the  spirit  of  reform,  and  driving  men  back  on  the 
past.  This  Oxford  movement  is  the  more  likely  to  spread, 
because  it  seems  not  to  be  the  work  of  policy  or  priestly 
ambition  so  much  as  a  genuine  fanaticism.  England  is 
more  given  to  sui)erstition  than  this  country,  and  as  little 
given  to  the  study  of  moral  and  religious  truth.  Still,  there 
is  no  great  danger.     In  an  age  when  the  people  are  study- 

"  To  J.  Blanco  White. 


CATHOLICISM.  377 

mg  and  applying  physical  laws,  and  dealing  earnestly  with 
physical  realities,  and  getting  the  shrewdness  which  arises 
from  the  spirit  of  trade  and  money-making,  fanaticism  must 
be  hemmed  within  narrow  limits.  The  great,  especially  the 
ultra-conservatives,  are  more  exposed  to  the  contagion  thau 
the  multitude.  How  desirable,  amidst  all  these  corruptions, 
that  a  nobler  form  of  Christianity  should  be  preached  and 
practised  with  an  unaffected,  all-sacrificing  earnestness, 
zeal,  force !  It  is  not  by  assailing  the  low  in  practice  or 
principle,  but  by  manifesting  the  high,  that  the  great  work 
of  reformation  is  to  go  on.  Whence  shall  this  force 
come  ?  " 

^^  Fehruary  27,  1841.*  I  have  been  reading,  or  rather 
am  just  finishing,  a  book  which  I  doubt  not  you  have  read 
with  great  interest,  —  Ranke's  History  of  the  Popes.  I 
confess  I  was  not  before  fully  aware  of  the  powerful  reac- 
tion of  Catholicism  against  Protestantism  at  the  close  of  the 
sixteenth  century.  It  is  plain  that  the  civil  power  was  the 
right  arm  of  the  Church,  and  that  she  reconquered  her  lost 
possessions  chiefly  by  force.  But  the  civil  power  did  not 
act  wholly,  or  perhaps  mainly,  from  policy,  but  very  much 
from  religious  impulses,  so  that  the  religious  principle  lay  at 
the  foundation  of  the  mighty  movement  which  rocked  all 
Europe.  What  so  formidable  as  this  principle  in  its  perver- 
sions !  Men  really  believed,  from  the  throne  to  the  cottage, 
that  a  fellow-creature,  holding  what  was  called  a  heresy,  was 
God's  personal  foe,  that  their  hatred  of  him  was  shared  by 
the  Creator,  and  that  to  drive  him  into  the  Church,  or  to  drive 
him  out  of  the  world  into  hell,  was  the  most  acceptable  ser- 
vice they  could  render  to  Heaven.  It  is  comforting  to  think 
that  this  horrible  doctrine  was  really  held,  —  that  it  was  not  a 
mere ^reiexf  of  tyranny,  —  that  the  Pope  and  Emperor  yield- 

«  To  J.  Blanco  White. 
32^ 


378  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

ed  as  hearty  assent  to  it  as  the  common  man.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  is  a  fearful  thouglit,  that  men  are  liable  to  such 
delusions, —  that  God's  name  may  be  enlisted  conscientious- 
ly on  the  side  of  the  fiercest  passions,  —  that  tyranny,  in  its 
most  terrible  forms,  may  be  grounded  on  ideas  of  duty  and 
religion.  Are  we  sure  that  we  are  safe  now  against  illusions 
equally  pernicious,  though  of  a  different  character  ?  We 
have  certainly  gained  something.  Tlie  fundamental  errtr 
of  Catholicism  was  an  utter  distrust  of  human  nature  on  the 
subject  of  religion.  It  was  universally  believed  that  religion 
was  to  be  imposed  on  man  from  abroad,  that  there  was 
nothing  in  his  intellect  or  affections  to  carry  him  to  God, 

—  an  opinion  not  very  strange  in  an  age  of  darkness,  —  and 
nothing  more  was  needed  for  the  superstructure  which  was 
reared  on  it.  This  we  have  outgrown  in  a  measure,  and  I 
have  no  fear  of  the  revival  of  the  notion  ;  and  still  more,  I 
have  great  hopes  from  the  partial  recognition  of  men's  ca- 
pacities and  rights.  But  the  great  fact  of  history,  that  tlie 
development  of  our  mysterious  nature  has  been  made 
through  so  much  error,  suffering,  conflict,  must  always  chas- 
tise our  hopes.  What  a  spell  seems  to  bind  the  nations  at 
this  moment !     What  has  France  learned  from  the   past  ? 

—  But  I  have  no  thought  of  inflicting  on  you  gloomy  fore- 
bodings. Such  are  some  of  the  ideas  which  Eanke's  book 
suggests,  but  on  the  whole  it  is  very  encouraging.  He 
teaches  that  a  dangerous  principle  or  force,  by  its  very 
prevalence,  awakens  counteracting  forces,  and  that  the 
springs  which  are  at  work  in  human  affairs  are  too  compli- 
cated and  vast  to  be  comprelicnded  or  managed  by  civil  or 
religious  despots.  Catholicism  met  resistance  to  its  project 
of  univei-sal  empire  from  the  jealousies  of  the  very  slates 
on  which  it  leaned.  May  it  not  be  added,  that  the  Jesuits, 
by  their  very  intelligence  and  subtlclics,  at  first  so  success- 
ful, awakened  an  intellectual  force  fatal  to  their  cause  .-• 
They  undertook  to  reason   men  out'  of  their   reason ;  an 


CHRISTIAN    UNION.  379 

enterprise  which  could  not  but  fail  in  the  long  run. — All 
this  is  an  old  story  to  you,  but  Eanke  is  on  my  table,  and  I 
am  fresh  from  his  pages  ;  and  I  fell  naturally  into  this  train 
of  thoughts." 

"  Newport^  May  8,  1841.*  I  show  you  by  my  speedy 
reply  how  acceptable  your  letter  was  to  nie.  Its  spirit  is 
indeed  encouraging  and  delightful  to  me,  not  for  any  selfish 
/easons,  not  because  I  am  included  in  its  liberality,  but  for 
its  own  sake,  because  it  is  the  spirit  of  Christianity,  and 
such  as  man  should  always  cherish  toward  man.  I  certain- 
ly ought  not  to  suspect  myself  of  taking  pleasure  in  anoth- 
er's candor  because  I  am  sheltered  under  it,  for  I  have 
learned  to  live  without  experience  of  candor.  I  have  pass- 
ed nearly  forty  years  under  no  small  reproach,  denuncia- 
tion, and  proscription.  I  have  been  deprived,  not  merely 
of  good  name,  but  of  what  is  far  dearer  to  a  Christian, 
of  no  small  degree  of  the  moral  injluence  which  I  am 
bound  to  exert,  and  yet  I  have  made  no  angry  complaint. 
Perhaps,  in  my  love  of  quiet,  retired  thought,  I  have  not 
been  sensitive  enough  to  the  injury  done  me.  I  invite  no 
liberality  toward  myself,  but  when  it  is  extended  to  me,  I 
welcome  it,  especially  as  I  see  in  it  the  sign  of  a  better  day,  of 
a  brighter  manifestation  of  the  spirit  of  our  religion 

"  You  say  that  the  Unitarians  might  make  '  many  conces- 
sions '  to  the  Trinitarians.  It  is  true  I  might  adopt  much 
of  the  Trinitarian  language,  not  only  on  the  Trinity,  but 
the  Atonement.  I  could  say,  that  Christ  died  to  magnify 
the  law,  to  satisfy  Divine  justice,  and  that  God  cannot  for- 
give without  manifesting  his  displeasure  at  sin.  But  I  can- 
not think  with  Talleyrand,  that  the  'use  of  language  is  to 
hide  our  thoughts.'  Such  approximations  to  those  from 
whom  we  really  differ  seem  to  me  to  put  in  peril  our  '  sim- 

*  To  Professor  George  Bush,  New  York. 


380  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

plicity  and  godly  sincerity.'  I  know  not  where  they  wil. 
stop.  They  also  obstruct  the  progress  of  truth,  and  to  the 
truth  every  Christian  must  be  willing  to  be  a  martyr.  Still 
more,  the  usurpation  which  demands  such  concessions  is  a 
wrong  to  our  common  Lord  and  Master,  and  to  the  human 
mind,  which  must  not  be  debarred  from  seeking  truth,  and 
giving  utterance  to  its  deep  convictions.  In  saying  this, 
I  do  not  speak  as  a  Unitarian,  but  an  independent  Christian. 
I  have  little  or  no  interest  in  Unitarians  as  a  sect.  I  have 
hardly  any  thing  to  do  with  them.  I  can  endure  no  secta- 
rian bonds.  With  Dr.  Priestley,  a  good  and  great  man, 
who  had  most  to  do  in  producing  the  late  Unitarian  move- 
ment, I  have  less  sympathy  than  with  many  of  the  '  Ortho- 
dox.' I  shall  soon  publish  a  discourse  on  '  the  Church,' 
which  I  will  send  you,  and  which  will  show  my  position  in 
this  respect.  I  would  not  have  you  imagine  that  any  secta- 
rian feeling  prevents  my  advances  to  other  sects." 

"  August  29,  1841.*  Your  religious  experience,  as  you 
relate  it,  has  been  fitted  to  carry  you  forwai'd.  There  are 
advantages  in  having  known  error  and  felt  its  power,  if  we 
are  so  happy  as  to  escape  from  it.  We  know  the  truth 
more  distinctly  by  contrast.  We  have  a  wider  field  for  ob- 
servation and  comparison,  and,  what  is  of  great  importance, 
we  can  understand  the  feelings  of  those  from  whom  we  dif- 
fer, and  do  them  greater  justice.  I  am  strongly  opposed  to 
Methodism,  not  for  its  speculative  errors,  but  for  its  spirit 
of  domination.  No  sect  seems  to  me  more  fettered,  or  to 
have  more  the  spirit  of  a  sect.  It  is  a  religious  aristocra- 
cy, combining  a  great  power  for  narrow  ends.  As  I  grow 
older,  I  grieve  more  and  more  at  the  impositions  on  the 
human  mind,  at  the  machinery  by  which  the  few  keep  down 
the  many.     I  distrust  sectarian   influence  more  and  more. 

•  To  Mr.  W.  Trevilcock,  CarhaiTuck. 


RELATION  TO  UNITARIANS.  381 

I  am  more  detaclied  from  a  denomination,  and  strive  to  feci 
more  my  connection  with  tlie  Universal  Church,  with  all 
good  and  holy  men.  I  am  little  of  a  Unitariaj*^  have  little 
sympathy  with  the  system  of  Priestley  and  Belsham,  and 
stand  aloof  from  all  but  those  who  strive  and  pray  for  clear- 
er light,  who  look  for  a  purer  and  more  effectual  manifes- 
tation of  Christian  truth." 

The  passage  last  quoted,  breathing  as  it  does  the 
temper  of  liberality  and  aspir&tion,  which,  characterizing 
Dr.  Channing's  youth,  had  strengthened  through  his 
manhood,  gave  rise  to  the  rumor  of  his  having  changed 
his  opinions,  —  a  rumor  so  absurd,  that  it  would  be  un- 
worthy even  of  a  passing  notice,  had  not  disingenuous 
theologians  systematically  perverted  the  plain  meaning 
of  the  words,  "  /  am  little  of  a  Unitarian.''^  William 
Ellery  Channing  was  a  member  of  the  Church  Universal 
of  the  Lovers  of  God  and  Lovers  of  Man.  He  knew 
that  religion  was  a  life,  and  not  a  creed  or  a  form.  In 
the  spirit  of  pure,  holy  goodness,  he  aspired  to  be  one 
with  the  Heavenly  Father, — in  generous,  respectful, 
overflowing  kindness,  he  purposed  to  be  one  with  all 
human  brethren.  Meanwhile  he  sought  truth,  —  such 
views  of  the  Lifinite  God,  of  his  relations  to  created 
spirits,  of  man's  appointed  end  and  rightful  aims,  as 
should  be  in  accordance  with  reality.  Jesus  Christ  he 
welcomed  with  unlimited  reverence  and  affection,  as  the 
full  manifestation  of  what  human  existence  in  communion 
with  the  Divine  Being  might  be  and  should  be.  He 
saw  in  this  "  first-born  of  many  brethren  "  a  revelation 
of  a  spiritual  mystery,  whose  depth  of  glory  no  ages  of 
the  past  had  fathomed.  He  wailed  in  prayerful  confi- 
dence for  a  fuller  apprehension  of  the  sublime  career 
opened  before   mankind.     Out  of  superstition  and  cant, 


382  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

skepticism  and  fear,  sophistry  and  selfish  strife,  he  long- 
ed to  be  delivered  into  "  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  chil- 
dren of  God.'"  On  sectarianism  and  tiieological  ^varfare 
he  looked  down  with  profound  disgust  and  pity,  and  val- 
ued bodies  of  believers  and  individual  disciples  accord- 
ing to  the  degree  in  which  he  saw  reflected  in  them  the 
image  of  the  common  Master,  who  prayed  that  "all" 
might  be  "one."  Unitarianism  he  conscientiously  con- 
sidered an  advance  towards  an  unobscured  view  of  the 
Christian  religion.  But  die  thought  of  resting  in  a 
Unitarian  creed,  or  of  limiting  his  sympathies  to  a  Unita- 
rian denomination,  never  for  a  moment  shadowed  his 
mind.  He  knew  his  ignorance,  he  felt  his  limitations, 
too  well  for  any  such  bigotry  and  narrowness.  Chris- 
tendom w^as  to  him  a  living  body,  for  ever  animated 
from  on  high,  constantly  unfolding,  instinct  with  a  spirit 
of  reform,  providentially  guarded  and  guided,  destined 
to  become  a  true  catholic  unity,  by  means  of  love  em- 
bodied in  holy  characters  and  humane  deeds.  He  join- 
ed hands  with  the  grand  circle  of  the  hopeful  and  de- 
voted "  followers  of  God  "  who  were  working  together 
with  Him  to  introduce  the  kingdom  of  heaven  upon 
earth.  In  mere  speculative  opinions,  he  was  never 
more  decidedly  a  Unitarian,  or,  to  use  his  own  defini- 
tion, a  believer  that  "  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  is  alone  and  exclusively  the  Supreme  and 
Independent  God,"  than  in  the  last  year  of  his  life  and 
on  his  deaih-bed  ;  but  at  no  previous  period  eiiher  was 
he  so  humbly  watching  for  some  influx  of  the  light  of 
life  which  might  renovate  the  nations.  Constitutionally, 
he  had  a  dread  of  sacrificing  independence  by  too  close 
ties  of  association  ;  from  the  whole  cast  of  his  philos- 
ophy, he  was  led  to  attach  a  superlative  value  to  indi- 


INFLUE.NCE    OF    NATURE.  383 

viduality  in  character,  thought,  action  ;  and  experience 
had  taught  hiai  to  "  fear  the  shackles  which  a  party  con- 
nection imposed."  In  a  word,  he  regard'ed  hniiself  ''-as 
belonging,  not  to  a  sect,  but  to  the  con)niunity  of  free 
minds,  of  lovers  cf  truth,  of  followers  of  Christ  both  on 
earth  and  in  heaven."*  In  the  following  passages  he 
has  so  fully  defined  his  position,  that  no  person  of  intelli- 
gence and  candor  can  misunderstand  him. 

"  1827.  It  is  the  influence  of  the  works  of  God  to  set  our 
minds  free  from  all  bigotry  and  prejudice.  In  the  presence 
of  nature  I  forget  the  religious  and  national  distinctions  which 
divide  mankind,  and  sympathize  with  the  benevolent  Power 
which  sustains  all.  I  feel  that  I  belong  not  to  a  part,  but  to  the 
whole,  —  to  the  universe  of  God.  The  creation  is  a  power- 
ful teacher  of  liberal  feelings,  and  does  much  to  counteract 
the  illiberal  preaching  which  passes  for  Christianity.  After 
hearing  in  a  church  a  discourse  which  makes  God  a  partial 
being  and  identifies  him  with  a  sect,  I  delight  to  escape  into 
the  open  air,  and  one  view  of  the  heavens,  or  of  any  of  the 
great  features  of  nature,  is  enough  to  scatter  the  gloom  which 
had  gathered  over  me,  and  to  teach  me  that  what  has  been 
said,  however  well  intended,  is  false.  God's  works  con- 
firm his  word,  —  assure  me,  after  all  which  I  have  heard, 
that  he  is  still  the  universal  Father.  I  have  not  come, 
then,  from  viewing  God's  works  to  breathe  into  you  narrow- 
ness and  bitterness  of  feeling.  I  would  come  in  that  spirit 
of  universal  charity  and  benignity  which  befits  a  pupil  of 
the  universe,  and  still  more  a  disciple  of  Christ.  I  aim 
not  to  sever  you  from  others ;  I  aim  only  to  give  you  a  just 
self-respect,  a  sense  of  what  is  due  to  your  own  minds, — 
moral  and  religious  independence,  energy  of  character  which 
will  not  yield  blindly  to  any  external  influence,  whenever 

"Works,  Vol.  III.,  p.  211. 


384  RELlGlOiN    AND    PHlLO.SUl'HY. 

exerted,  or  however  it  may  strive  to  wrap  itself  in  a  sacred 
garb.  This  spirit  is  not  inconsistent  with  true  love,  but  is 
its  ally  and  natural  associate." 

"  Boston,  June  2,  1828.*  There  was  one  part  of  your 
letter  which  gave  me  peculiar  pleasure,  —  that  in  which  you 
speak  of  the  favor  which  my  discourse  on  the  evidences  of 
Christianity  has  found  in  England.  I  pretend  not  to  be 
indifferent  to  literary  reputation,  but  I  hope  I  may  say  that 
the  thought  of  contributing  any  thing  to  a  more  intelligent 
reception  and  to  more  generous  views  of  our  religion  is 
dearer  to  me  than  any  human  praise.  Your  letter  gives  me 
reason  to  think  that  you  accord  with  me,  not,  perhaps,  in  my 
peculiarities  of  faith,  —  for  of  these  you  say  nothing,  —  but 
m  the  conviction,  that  Christianity  is  often  injured  by  nar- 
row and  degrading  modes  of  Exhibiting  it,  and  that  its  gen- 
erous character  and  ennobling  influence  are  very  imper- 
fectly understood.  Allow  me  to  say,  that  I  take  the  more 
pleasure  in  making  these  inferences  as  to  your  state  of  mind, 
because  your  sex,  with  all  their  merits,  —  and  these  are 
above  praise,  —  have  had  their  full  share  in  fixing  the  pres- 
ent low  standard  of  religion,  by  the  ease  with  which  they 
have  given  up  their  minds  to  be  awed  and  formed  by  vulgar 
and  menacing  teachers.  I  do  hail  the  marks  of  intellectual 
freedom  and  moral  courage  in  your  sex  with  peculiar  hope  ; 
for  woman,  through  her  maternal  and  social  influences,  must 
always  act  on  the  religion  of  a  community  with  great  power; 
and  if  subdued  by  an  illiberal,  irrational  faith,  she  will  do 
much  to  spread  the  infection  around  her. 

"  I  speak  to  you  freely,  for  you  have  encouraged  me  to 
do  so,  —  and  the  more  freely,  because,  if  you  agree  with  me 
as  far  as  I  suppose,  I  should  rejoice  to  enlist  you  in  what 
seems  to  me  the  greatest  cause  on  earth.     Do  not  imagine 

*  To  Mrs.  Joanna  Baillie. 


RELIGION    IiN    FRANCE.  .386 

Ltiat  1  would  draw  you  into  sectarian  warfare.  I  would  have 
you  bear  your  public  ieslimony  to  Christianity,  as  a  religion 
of  benignant  aspect,  of  a  liberal  spirit,  of  kifty  purposes, 
given  to  free  and  enlarge  the  intellect,  to  form  a  higher  order 
of  charaeter,  a  filial  and. elevating  piety,  and  an  unbounded 
charity,  —  and  to  indue  the  will  with  invincible  strength  in 
well-doing.  I  want  our  religion  to  be  taken  out  of  the  hands 
of  technical,  professional  men, —  who  look  at  it  through  the 
mists  of  the  dark  ages.  It  is  the  property,  not  of  priests, 
but  of  the  human  race,  and  every  superior  mind  may  and 
should  do  something  towards  asserting  its  celestial  dignity." 

^^  June  16,  1831.*  The  immense  moral  power  now  ex- 
erted by  France  over  the  civilized  world,  a  power  growing 
from  her  geographical  position,  from  her  political  relations, 
as  the  centre  and  spring  of  the  great  revolutionary  movement 
in  Europe,  and  from  the  universality  of  her  language  and 
literature,  renders  her  at  this  moment  the  most  interesting 
nation  on  earth.  The  cause  of  free  institutions  and  of  hu- 
man improvement  seems  specially  committed  to  her.  When 
I  take  this  view  of  France,  I  am  greatly  afHicted  by  what  I 
hear  of  the  want  of  religious  principle  among  all  classes  of 
the  French  population  ;  for,  without  this  principle,  I  see  not 
how  a  people  can  rise  to  any  moral  greatness,  or  do  much 
for  the  human  race.  I  wish  to  know  if  the  accounts  I  have 
heard  are  true.  Is  Christianity  classed  by  the  great  majority 
of  thinking  men  in  that  country  among  exploded  impostures  ? 
Is  religion  in  all  its  forms  neglected,  contemned,  and  without 
power  ?  Are  those  who  are  alive  to  its  importance  —  for 
such  there  must  be  —  so  few  and  scattered  as  to  exert  no 
influence  ?  Is  Voltaire  as  much  an  oi'acle  as  formerly  ?  I 
once  thought  him  the  truest  expression  of  the  French  mind. 
Is  he  so  still .-'     I  will  not  overpower  you  with  questions. 

•  To  M.  J.  C.  L.  Siraonde  de  Sismondi. 
VOL.    II.  33 


Bob  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOFHY. 

But  an  .mportant  one  remains.  From  what  means  or  efTorts 
may  a  better  state  of  things  be  hoped  in  France  ?  What 
can  be  done  for  religion  in  that  country  ?  Your  article  on 
rehgion,  translated  by  Miss  Sedgwick,  satisfies  me  that  you 
sympathize  with  me  in  my  interest  in  this  subject,  and  I 
know  you  must  have  thought  on  it  seriously.  What,  then 
I  repeat  it,  can  be  done?  My  remoteness  exposes  me  to 
many  errors ;  but  I  have  a  general  conviction  that  Chris- 
tianity is  not  to  revive  in  France  in  any  of  its  old  forms. 
Gatholieism  is  fallen,  and  so  is  Protestantism.  In  truth,  the 
last  was  an  antagonist  to  the  first,  a  belligerent  religion, 
framed  to  put  down  Rome,  and  so  far  was  a  great  good. 
But  its  work  is  very  much  done,  nor  is  it  enough  adapted  to 
the  present  wants  of  the  human  mind  to  regain  its  power. 
A  purer,  higher  form  of  Christianity  is  needed,  such  as 
will  approve  itself  to  men  of  profound  thinking  and  feel- 
ing, as  the  real  spring  and  most  efficacious  instrument  of 
moral  elevation,  moral  power,  and  disinterested  love.  If  I 
may  put  another  question,  I  would  ask  if  there  are  any 
symptoms  of  this  purer  religion  in  France.  Is  the  want  of  it 
beginning  to  be  felt  ?  St.  Simonianism,  as  far  as  I  know  it, 
is  a  political  engine,  a  worldly  movement ;  not  the  struggling 
of  the  moral,  religious,  and  immortal  nature  for  freer  action 
and  a  new  development.  The  writings  of  Cousin  and  Con- 
stant give  promise  of  a  better  state  of  things.  Do  they  rep- 
resent any  considerable  number  of  the  thinking  class?  Can 
you  name  to  me  any  intellectual  men,  interested  in  this  sub- 
ject, \vho  would  like  to  open  a  correspondence  with  me  ?  Can 
you  name  any  books  which  would  enlighten  me  ?  Dami- 
ron's  view  of  the  French  philosophy  of  the  age  I  have  read." 

"  Boston,  June  29,  1831.*     My  highly  valued  friend,  Miss 
Pcabody,  has  read  to  me  your  letters  in  which  you  e.xpress  a 

•  To  M.  le  Baron  DegeranHo,  Paris. 


RELIGION    IN    FRANCE.  387 

Wish  to  know  something  of  the  views  of  Christianity  wliich 
prevail  to  a  considerable  extent  in  this  par^pf  our  country, 
and  I  am  encouraged  by  your  language  to  hope  that  you 
may  look  with  some  interest  into  a  volume  which  I  have 
publislied,  and  which  will  give  you  the  general  features  of 
this  form  of  religion.  I  ought  to  observe,  however,  that 
what  is  here  called  Unitarianism,  a  very  inadequate  name, 
s  characterized  by  nothing  more  than  by  the  spirit  of  free- 
dom and  individuality.  It  has  no  established  creed  or  sym- 
bol. Its  friends  think  each  for  himself,  and  differ  much  from 
each  other;  so  that  my  book,  after  all,  will  give  you  my 
mind  rather  than  the  dogmas  of  a  sect. 

"I  am  particularly  gratified  by  this  mode  of  introduction 
to  you,  because  it  may  authorize  a  request  which  I  have 
much  at  heart.  There  are  few  things  which  I  desire  more 
than  to  know  with  some  accuracy  the  religious  condition  of 
France,  the  tendencies  of  the  thinking  part  of  society  and  of 
the  mass  of  the  people  on  this  subject,  and  w'hat  are  the 
views  of  good  and  intelligent  men  as  to  the  best  means  of 
increasing  the  power  of  religion  among  you.  France,  from 
her  geographical  and  political  position,  and  from  the  im- 
mense moral  influence  which  she  is  exerting,  may  be  con- 
sidered as  the  central  power  of  Europe,  and  nothing  dis- 
courages me  more  than  the  accounts  which  I  often  receive 
of  the  absence,  the  almost  total  want,  of  the  religious  princi 
pie  among  all  classes  of  her  population.  Are  these  accounts 
true .''  Has  France,  as  a  nation,  lost  sight  of  man's  connec- 
tion with  God,  and  with  a  future  and  higher  existence .'' 
Is  Christianity  without  honor  and  without  power  among 
you  ?  Arc  there  not  signs  of  the  revival  of  the  religiour? 
principle  ?  If  so,  what  direction  or  form  is  it  taking  ?  Is 
any  deep  consciousness  of  the  need  of  it  springing  up  ?  I 
know  that  recent  events  have  absorbed  the  people,  nor  ought 
any  striking  development  of  religious  feeling  to  be  expected 
under  such  circumstances.   Still,  a  tendency  to  a  better  state 


388  RELIGION    AAD    PHILOSOPHY. 

of  things,  if  real  and  profound,  will  give  some  signs  of  ils 
existence.  I  wish  to  propose  another  question,  which,  I  trust, 
you  will  answer  with  entire  frankness.  It  is,  whether  the 
views  of  religion  given  in  my  volume  are  in  any  degree 
suited  to  the  wants  and  state  of  mind  of  any  considerable 
class  in  France. 

"I  am  not  sorry  to  learn  from  your  letters  that  the  Eng- 
lish sects  meet  little  success  in  spreading  their  own  forms  of 
Christianity  among  you.  They  can  give  you  only  a  poor 
form  of  religion.  England  has  made  little  progress  for  some 
lime  past  in  the  highest  truths.  Her  missionaries,  if  listened 
to,  would  carry  back  France  three  centuries.  I  trust  that 
religion,  when  it  does  return  to  you,  is  to  spring  up  in  a 
diviner  form.  I  trust  that  France,  after  all  her  struggles  for 
improvement,  is  not  to  resume  the  worn-out  theology  of  the 
dark  ages. 

"You  see  to  what  object  my  mind  chiefly  turns.  In  the 
struggle  of  France  for  freedom,  I  have  sympathized  with  her 
most  fervently.  But  I  wish  for  her  a  freedom  worthy  of  the 
name,  and  this  cannot  be  hoped  for,  unless  it  shall  ally  itself 
with  a  pure  and  rational  religion.  I  will  only  add,  that  one 
part  of  my  volume  may  not  meet  your  full  approbation.  I 
refer  to  my  remarks  on  Bonaparte.  If  I  know  myself,  I 
wrote  that  article  from  a  sincere  interest  in  the  cause  of 
freedom  and  mankind.  I  may  have  erred,  however,  and  if 
my  errors  are  important  enough  to  be  exposed,  I  will  thank 
any  friend  of  truth  to  undertake  the  work." 

"  Dcccmher  19,  1832.*  I  continue  to  look  towards  France 
with  great  interest.  She  must  be  roused  sooner  or  later 
from  her  present  indiflcrence  to  a  new  action  on  the  subject 
of  religion,  and  this  will  have  an  immense  influence  on  the 
progress  of  society.     I  am   not  at  all   discouraged  by  thr 

*  To  M.  J.  C.  L.  Simonde  de  Sismondi. 


ESSENTIAL    CHRISTIANITY.  389 

failure  of  attempts  to  restore  the  antiquated  systems  of  the- 
ology. I  neither  expect  nor  desire  Christianity  to  revive  in 
France  under  its  old  forms.  Something  better  is  needed. 
Christianity,  I  conceive,  is  to  be  reestablished  by  clear  de- 
velopments of  its  original,  essential  truths.  One  of  the  great 
means  of  restoring  it  is,  to  disconnect  it  from  its  old  forms, 
to  break  up  the  habit,  almost  universal  in  France,  of  identify- 
ing it  with  Catholicism  and  old  Protestantism.  Another 
means  is,  to  show  its  harmony  with  the  spirit  of  freedom,  of 
philanthropy,  of  progress,  and  to  show  that  these  principles 
require,  in  order  to  their  full  expansion,  the  aid  of  Chris- 
tianity. The  identity  of  this  religion  with  the  most  uncon- 
fined  and  self-sacrificing  benevolence  needs  especially  to 
be  understood.  No  religion  can  now  prevail  which  is  not 
plainly  seen  to  minister  to  our  noblest  sentiments  and 
powers,  and  unless  Christianity  fulfils  this  condition,  I  can- 
not wish  it  success. 

"  With  these  views,  I  do  not  altogether  acquiesce  in  what 
you  think  the  duty  of  the  friends  of  enlightened  religion  at 
the  present  moment.  You  think  they  must  loait.  If  you 
mean  that  the  time  has  not  come  for  them  to  organize  them- 
selves into  a  new  sect,  I  shall  not  differ  from  you.  I  doubt 
whether  that  time  will  ever  come.  I  doubt  whether  the  puri- 
fied Christianity  which  I  anticipate  is  to  rise  in  the  form  of  a 
sect  or  party,  whether  its  friends  are  to  distinguish  them- 
selves by  any  outward  badge,  or  whether  it  is  to  make  its 
way  by  the  imposing  efforts  of  masses.  The  age  of  symbols, 
of  pompous  worship,  of  the  priesthood,  and  of  overpowering 
religious  combinations,  is  passing  aw-ay.  Religion  must  be 
spread  more  and  more  by  rational  means,  that  is,  by  the 
unfettered  efforts  of  individual  minds,  by  clear  development 
of  great  truths,  by  moral  suasion,  and  by  examples  of  its 
sublime  efficacy  on  the  character  and  life.  These  means 
are  always  seasonable,  and  were  never  more  needed  than 
now.  I  expect,  indeed,  that  they  who  receive  this  higher 
33* 


390  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

manifestation  of  Christianity  will  be  attracted  to  each  other, 
and  will  unite  their  exertions  as  far  as  consists  with  perfect 
intellectual  freedom.  But  their  enlarged  views  and  sympa- 
thies, and  their  reverence  for  the  religion,  will  make  them 
shrink  from  giving  it  a  sectarian  form," 

^^  Boston,  April  16,  1835.*  My  interest  in  the  state 
and  prospects  of  Europe  is  very  strong,  and  I  can  rely  so 
little  on  the  discordant  statements  in  the  public  prints,  that  I 
am  very  grateful  for  the  views  and  impressions  of  intelli- 
gent friends  of  freedom  and  humanity  residing  on  the  spot. 
I  hope  for  the  world,  but  am  not  secure.  I  see  grounds  for 
alarm,  in  the  strength  which  despotism  derives  from  concen- 
tration and  unity  of  action,  in  the  divisions  which  necessarily 
spring  up  among  men  who  think  for  themselves,  and,  above 
all,  in  the  selfishness  and  factious  views  of  the  pretended 
friends  of  free  institutions.  To  myself  nothing  is  so  dis- 
couraging as  the  want  of  moral  and  religious  principle  in 
France.  I  do  not  see  how  a  profligate  people  is  to  lead  the 
way  to  a  better  state  of  things,  or  how  a  free  government  is 
to  be  secure  in  a  country  where  there  are  no  grounds  of 
mutual  confidence,  and  no  spring  of  self-sacrifice.  I  am 
looking  with  earnest  desire  for  some  manifestation  of  the 
religious  sentiment  in  France.  I  have  lately  learned  some- 
thing of  the  Abbe  Chatel's  '  French  Church,'  but  hope  little 
or  nothing  from  it.  A  new  sect,  to  do  good,  must  start  with 
a  profound  faith,  with  deep  conviction,  with  all-absorbing 
devotion  to  great  truths.  Religion,  I  suppose,  perished  in 
France  chicHy  from  two  causes,  the  corruptions  of  the  Cath- 
olic Church,  and  a  superficial,  material  philosophy.  A  purer 
church  and  a  spiritual  philosophy  would  do  much  to  restore 
it.  By  a  purer  church,  I  moan  a  community,  no  matter  how 
small,  in  which  there  would  be  a  distinct  manifestation  of  the 

*  To  M.  3.  C.  L.  Simonde  de  Sisniondi. 


CONTROVERSIAL  THEOLOGY.  391 

peculiar  power  of  Christianity  to  piirify  and  ennoble  human 
nature.  Where  can  the  materials  be  found  ?  In  Benjamin 
Constant  and  Cousin  I  have  seen  the  promf^e  of  a  higher 
•philosophy.  What  may  be  hoped  from  this  ?  Nothing  has 
amazed  and  confounded  me  so  much  as  the  Abbe  de  la 
Mennais's  late  book,  '  The  Words  of  a  Believer.'  I  cannot 
easily  identify  the  author  with  the  bigot  who  wrote  on  '  Re- 
ligious Indifference.'  He  seems  to  write  in  good  faith. 
How  is  he  to  be  interpreted  ?  Is  he  an  example  or  proof 
of  the  general  tendency  of  our  age  towards  an  unsettled 
state  of  mind  ?  Is  Catholicism  itself  unable  to  control  this  i 
I  should  be  glad  to  know  the  influence  of  his  book." 

^'Boston,  March  29,  1832.*  Your  book  is  almost  the 
only  one  I  have  read  on  the  subject  for  years.  If  it  would 
not  savor  of  vanity,  I  should  say  that  I  have  risen  above 
the  region  of  controversial  theology.  In  pi'oportion  as  the 
great  moral,  spiritual  purpose  of  Christianity  shines  on  my 
mind,  the  unintelligible  mysteries  of  the  schools  fade  away, 
and  I  can  hardly  muster  up  interest  enough  in  them  to  read 
either  for  or  against  them." 

'^^  Boston,  March  31,  1832. t  I  ought  to  have  answered 
your  letter  of  July  before  this.  It  gave  me  much  pleasure, 
and  I  wish  you  could  find  time  to  write  me  many  such.  I 
have  a  deep  and  increasing  interest  in  the  state  of  society 
abroad,  and  you  give  me  reason  to  hope  for  some  account 
of  the  religious  condition  and  prospects  of  your  part  of 
the  world.  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  from  you  on  this  and 
all  subjects.  What  is  to  come  from  the  present  agitation 
of  your  country,  it  is  hard  to  say.  I  hope  good  from  the 
shaking  of  men's  minds  through  the  civilized  world.  That 
great  principles  will  be  unsettled  in  some  by  the  process,  we 

*  To  Mrs.  Joanna  Baillie.  t  To  Win.  Burns,  Esq.,  Saltcoats. 


■  392  RELIGIOM    AND    FHILOSOPHr. 

know  ;  but  inveterate  prejudices  and  abuses  which  would 
yield  to  no  other  influence  will  also  be  swept  away." 

"  Boston,  February  25,  1833,*  You  ought  not  to  regret 
that  your  last  years  are  given  to  such  controversy.  You  are 
teaching  us  all  the  spirit  in  which  controvei-sy  should  be  car- 
ried on,  and  you  are  laboring  to  vindicate  the  power  of  Him 
to  whose  gloiy  every  life  should  be  dedicated,  I  trust  you 
are  to  be  spared  to  complete  your  other  works.  One  thing 
is  very  gratifying,  that  theologians  feel  as  never  before  the 
necessity  of  reconciling  their  systems  to  the  perfections  of 
God,  They,  indeed,  adopt  strange  means  for  this  end  ;  but 
still,  the  spirit  which  is  at  work  in  these  new  and  indefensible 
theories  is  a  good  one,  and  a  sure  presage  of  a  brighter  day," 

"  Boston,  July  30,  1834.t  Your  letter  by  Dr,  Tuckcr- 
man  was  very  gratifying  to  me,  I  am  glad  that  you  have 
had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  my  two  excellent  friends,  and 
of  becoming  acquainted  with  their  worth.  Perhaps  these 
gentlemen  have  helped  you  to  understand  American  Unita- 
rianism  better  than  you  did  before.  They  are  fair  speci- 
mens of  our  body  in  one  respect,  I  think  you  must  have 
been  struck  with  the  entire  absence  of  a  sectarian  spirit  in 
their  habits  of  feeling  and  thinking,  and  it  seems  to  me,  that, 
with  our  many  and  great  deficiencies,  we  may  be  said  to  be 
characterized  by  this  feature.  We  look  at  Christianity  vei-y 
much  as  if  no  sect  existed,  and  do  not  exaggerate  the  im- 
portance of  certain  doctrines  because  they  distinguish  us 
from  others.  The  grand  spiritual  purpose  of  Christianity  is, 
I  trust,  more  and  more  felt  among  us,  and  one  question  is 
absorbing  all  others,  namely,  —  How  may  our  religion  bo 
administered  so  as  to  promote  effectual ly  its  great  end  of 
regenerating  the  individual  and  the  world  ? 

•  To  Noah  Worcester,  D.  D.  f   To  Lant  Carpenter,  D.  D. 


GROWING    BIGOTRY.  593 

'  By  this  I  do  not  mean  that  we  are  what  we  should  be. 
A  great  change  must  be  wrought  in  us,  before  we  shall  be 
thought  worthy  to  do  much  for  the  rcdcmptio«  of  mankind 
from  error  and  sm.  This,  however,  is  reserved  for  those 
who  shall  have  attained  to  the  unworldly  spirit  and  the  all- 
sacrificing  love  of  Christ  and  his  Apostles.  I  think  that  I 
see  some  approaches  towards  this  elevation  of  character ; 
and  the  simplicity  of  mind  with  which  we  look  at  the  re- 
ligion is  a  good  omen.  Still,  how  much  do  we  need,  to  fit 
us  for  the  great  work  of  giving  a  new  life  to  the  Church  and 
the  world  !  " 

"  Boston,  April  5,  1837.*  Nothing  svhich  a  pure  pur- 
pose prompts  is  lost.  I  am  not  discouraged  by  the  signs  of 
a  growing  higotiy.  This  is  preparing  its  own  downfall,  by 
refusing  to  learn  wisdom  from  the  growing  intelligence  of 
the  times.  I  have  often  observed  how  the  weapons  wielded 
by  superstition  in  one  age  are  turned  against  it  in  another. 
The  Inquisition,  once  so  terrible  a  defence  of  Rome,  now 
inspires  a  horror  which  more  th**'!  counteracts  its  past  servi- 
ces. So  the  infallibility  of  that  church,  once  an  imposing 
plea,  now  does  it  infinite  harm,  by  preventing  it  from  dis- 
claiming or  modifying  old  error"*.  God  and  truth  are 
mightier  than  all  human  devices.  You  see  I  am  full  of 
hope.  I  set  up  for  no  prophet,  I  f.x  no  time  for  the  mil- 
lennium, but  I  see  many  good  signr  There  must  be  a 
period  of  struggle  and  suffering.  Butt  this  does  not  dis- 
hearten me.  To  struggle  and  suffer  w  *  good  cause  are 
greater  privileges  even  than  to  triumph." 

"  August  23,  1837.t  So  the  Quakers  in  England,  as  here 
partake  of  the  agitations  of  the  age.  I  do  not  know  « 
stronger  proof  of  the  revolutionary  character  cf  our  times 

"  To  Mrs.  Joanna  Baillie.      t  To  Wm.  Rathbone,  Es     ^iv«rnooi. 


394  RELIGiOX   AND   PHILOSOPHY. 

One  would  have  thought  a  Quaker  meeting  one  of  the  last 
fortresses  to  yield  to  innovation.  Wc  must  be  comforted  at 
the  disappearance  of  this  sect,  by  thinking  that  it  has  done 
its  work,  that  its  most  important  principles  have  passed  into 
the  hands  of  more  enlightened  men,  who  will  expound  them 
more  successfully.  I  grieve  that  any  of  their  body  should 
have  fallen  back  into  the  Establishment  What  Avould 
George  Fox  say,  could  he  lift  up  his  broad  beaver,  and  see 
nis  followers  returning  to  Mother  Church,  the  mother  of  all 
abominations  ?  I  fear  they  have  forgotten  his  favorite 
maxim, —  'Be  not  conformed  to  this  world.'  Perhaps  a 
wise  reform  might  have  reconstructed  Quakerism,  so  as  to 
hold  together  the  body ;  but  I  see  sects  die  without  much 
mourning.     The  time  for  all  to  die  is  coming." 

"  Sepfemher  18,  1839.*  I  Avould  that  I  could  look  to 
Unitarianism  with  more  hope.  But  this  system  was,  at  its 
recent  revival,  a  protest  of  the  understanding  against  absurd 
dogmas,  rather  than  the  work  of  deep  religious  principle, 
/and  was  early  paralyzed  by  the  mixture  of  a  material 
philosophy,  and  fell  too  much  into  the  hands  of  scholars  and 
political  reformers,  and  the  consequence  is  a  want  of  vitality 
and  force  which  gives  us  little  hope  of  its  accomplishing 
much  under  its  present  auspices,  or  in  its  present  form. 
When  I  tell  you  that  no  sect  in  this  country  has  taken  less 
interest  in  the  slavery  question,  or  is  more  inclined  to  con- 
servatism, than  our  body,  you  will  judge  what  may  be  ex- 
pected from  it.  Whence  is  salvation  to  come  .''  This  is  the 
question  which  springs  up  in  my  mind  continually.  Is  the 
world  to  receive  new  impulse  from  individual  reformers, 
or  from  new  organizations  ?  Or  is  the  work  to  go  on  by  a 
more  silent,  unorganized  action  of  thought  and  great  princi- 
ples in  the  mass  ?     Or  are  great  convulsions,  breaking  up 

•  To  J.  Blanco  White. 


OXFORD    TRACTARIANS.  395 

the  present  order  of  things,  as  in  the  fall  of  the  Roman  em- 
pire, needed  to  the  introduction  of  a  reform  worthy  of  the 
name  ?  Sometimes  I  fear  the  last,  so  rooted'seem  the  cor- 
ruptions of  the  Church  and  society.  But  I  live  in  hope  of 
milder  processes." 

"  Boston,  November  20,  1839.*  I  wish  you  would  com- 
municate more  particulars  about  the  new  school  of  Oxford. 
The  Church  of  England  has  seemed  to  me  so  dead,  that  I 
am  interested  by  any  sign  of  life,  though  it  be  a  fever.  I 
suppose,  too,  that  the  movement  is  in  resistance  of  the  ma- 
terial tendencies  of  the  age,  and  in  this  way  it  may  indicate 
a  higher  moral  feeling,  though  it  is  too  servile,  too  distrustful 
of  the  reason,  too  exclusively  given  up  to  the  imagination, 
to  promise  any  good.  Is  it  a  sudden  burst,  or  has  it  grown 
up  slowly  ? 

"  I  wish  to  know  the  result  of  the  Trinitarian  controversy 
in  Liverpool.  I  have  read  with  pleasure  two  or  three  tracts 
of  Mr.  Martineau  and  Mr.  Thom,  and  hope  to  see  the  whole. 
I  was  particularly  struck  with  their  freedom  from  cant, 
from  popular  appeals,  with  their  noble  faithfulness  to  their 
convictions,  with  their  calm  reliance  on  the  power  of  truth. 
Did  they  produce  immediate  effects  ?  If  so,  your  city  must 
have  made  no  small  progress,  moral  and  intellectual.  I  do 
not  subscribe  to  all  the  positions  of  these  gentlemen ;  but  I 
feel  great  respect  for  the  power  and  spirit  manifested  in 
what  I  have  read." 

1839.  "  I  live  as  did  Simeon,  in  the  hope  of  seeing  a 
brighter  day.  I  do  see  the  gleams  of  dawn,  and  that  ought 
to  cheer  me.  I  hope  nothing  from  increased  zeal  in  urging 
an  imperfect,  decaying  form  of  Christianity.  One  higher, 
clearer  view  of  religion  rising  on  a  single  mind  encourages 

•  To  J.  Blanco  Whita. 


t}96  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

me  more  than  the  organization  of  millions  to  repeat  what 
has  been  repeated  for  ages  with  little  eflcct.  The  individual 
llere  is  mightier  than  the  world,  and  I  have  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  aspirations  after  this  purer  truth 

"  I  see  little  infidelity  here,  but  much  loose  thinking. 
Not  a  few  think  that  they  pay  homage  to  religious  truth,  by 
receiving  it  chiefly  on  the  ground  of  its  own  excellence  and 
glory,  and  very  little  on  authority.  The  just  limits  of  au- 
thority, indeed,  and  its  proper  office,  need  to  be  settled. 
The  progress  of  religious  inquiry  is  bringing  this  and  other 
related  questions  into  discussion,  and  we  must  all  give  wliat 
light  we  have 

"  I  believe,  —  I  trust,  —  that  a  better  age  of  theological 
literature  is  dawning  upon  us.  The  human  mind  is  begin- 
ning to  throw  off  the  weight  of  authority  which  has  crushed 
it  for  ages,  and  although  its  first  strength  may  be  put  forth 
in  vehement  wrestling  with  errors,  in  the  subtilties  of  con- 
troversy, perhaps  in  rushing  from  one  to  another  extreme, 
yet,  if  left  to  the  free  use  of  its  powers  and  to  the  quicken- 
ing influences  which  God  is  pouring  upon  it  through  nature, 
through  events,  through  revelation,  and  through  a  more  se- 
cret and  inward  energy,  it  will  at  length  arrive,  in  one  and 
another  gifted  individual,  to  that  state  of  calm,  intense,  and 
deep  meditation  and  feeling,  from  which  all  living  and  life- 
giving  works  on  morals  and  religion  are  to  proceed.  One 
Buch  work  may  be  enough  to  give  a  new  aspect  to  theology, 
to  introduce  modes  of  viewing  and  studying  it  as  superior  to 
those  which  now  prevail  as  those  are  to  the  antiquated  scho- 
lastic subtilties  and  jargon  which  once  bore  its  name." 

^^  Boston,  AprW  13,  1840.*  In  a  late  letter  I  spoke  to 
you  of  the  Unitarian  body  in  this  country  as  having  par- 
taken the  common  indifference  in  regard  to  slavery,  and  as 

•  To  J.  Blanco  White. 


LIVERPOOL    LECTURES.  397 

wanting  the  spirit  of  progress.  As  to  the  last  point,  1  should 
have  spoken  with  greater  I'estraint.  There  arc  in  the  body- 
individuals  dissatisfied  with  the  present,  anlf  anxious  for 
higher  manifestations  of  the  truth  and  spirit  of  Christianity. 
The  ministers  deserve  our  grea'  praise.  They  seem  to  me, 
as  a  body,  remarlvable  for  integrity,  for  the  absence  of  in- 
trigue, for  superiority  to  all  artifice.  I  think  Unitarianism  is 
administered  among  us  with  more  zeal,  earnestness,  and 
will  be  more  fruitful  ;  though  I  expect  no  great  reform, 
until  Christianity  is  rescued  from  the  errors,  mists,  corrup- 
tions, which  have  so  long  obscured  and  impaired  it." 

"  Boston,  September  11,  1840.*  I  owe  you  many  thanks 
for  the  volume  you  so  kindly  sent  me  of  the  Liverpool  Lec- 
tures. I  had  read  a  good  part  of  the  Lectures,  but  was  glad 
to  read  the  rest,  and  to  own  all.  I  have  expressed  to  my 
English  friends  my  admiration  of  these  defences  of  the  truth. 
I  do  not  know  how  the  cause  could  have  fallen  into  better 
hands,  or  could  have  been  more  worthily  maintained.  In- 
deed, I  ought  to  go  farther,  —  I  doubt  whether  the   battle 

could  have  been  fought  as  well  elsewhere They  will 

lead  a  certain  number  to  think,  and  will  give  them  far  higher 
views  than  they  had  before.  They  will  stir  up  thought. 
They  are  suggesting,  quickening,  fertilizing,  — and  such  are 
the  writings  which  are  to  do  good,  not  those  which  produce 
immediate  superficial  effect. 

"  I  was  glad  that  you  did  not  undertake  to  defend  any  Uni- 
tarianism but  your  own.  I  know  that  in  this  way  the  benefit 
of  authority  is  lost,  and  the  unity  of  the  sect  is  threatened  ; 
but  what  unity  is  of  any  worth,  except  the  attraction  subsist- 
ing among  those  who  hold,  not  nominally,  but  really,  not  in 
words,  but  with  profound  conviction  and  love,  the  same  great 
truths  ?     I  see  in  these  Lectures  the  signs  of  a  freer  discus- 

»  To  the  Rev.  J.  H.  Thom,  Liverpool. 
VOL.   II.  34 


3QS  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

sion  than  we  have  had  yet.  As  yet,  controversialists  who 
have  broken  all  other  chains  have  had  a  feeling  of  allegiance 
to  their  sect.  Pure,  supreme  love  of  truth,  how  hard  an 
acquisition !  Perhaps  our  attachment  to  Christianity  may 
sometimes  blind  us,  by  leading  us  to  force  meanings  on  its 
records  which  fall  below  the  dignity  of  a  revelation.  It  is  no 
easy  thing  to  let  the  records  speak  for  themselves,  to  take 
them  as  we  find  them,  to  let  them  say  what  will  injure  their 
authority  in  the  present  state  of  men's  minds.  We  '  rational 
Christians  '  are  in  danger  of  acting  the  part  of  their  patrons, 
rather  than  their  interpreters. 

"  There  is  another  danger,  too,  to  which  we  are  exposed. 
We  arc  more  and  more,  and  very  properly,  inclined  to  rest 
Christianity  on  the  character,  the  spirit,  the  divine  elevation 
of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  the  tendency  of  this  is  to  beget  a  swol- 
len way  of  speaking  about  him  and  his  virtues,  very  incon- 
sistent with  the  simple  beauty  and  majesty  of  his  character, 
and  which  is  fitted  to  throw  a  glare  over  him,  and  not  to 
present  that  distinct  apprehension  of  him  so  necessary  to  a 
quickening  and  transforming  love.  It  is  an  age  of  swelling 
words.  I  must  plead  guilty  myself,  and  I  am  not  sure  that 
the  Lectures  are  free  from  the  oflence.  Indeed,  to  see  and 
set  forth  Christianity  in  its  simplicity  is  a  hard  task.  Brought 
up  as  we  have  been,  living  in  a  most  artificial,  unchristian 
state  of  society,  —  the  antithesis  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
—  it  is  not  easy  to  preserve  and  feel  the  force  of  any  precept 
or  truth  of  the  religion.  We  must,  by  one  or  another  means, 
escape  the  world  we  live  in,  —  its  hollow  religious  convention- 
alisms, its  denial  throughout  of  the  worth  of  a  human  spirit, 
of  the  fraternal  relation  of  all  human  beings,  —  before  we  can 
get  a  glimpse  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus." 

"  June  22,  1840.*    I  can  touch  but  on  one  topic  more.   You 
•  To  Miss  H.  Martineau. 


UNITARIAN    ORTHODOX!'.  399 

speak  of  your  brother  James.  Since  writing  to  you,  I  have 
read  all  his  Lectures;  and  they  seem  to  me  among  the  no- 
blest efforts  of  our  times.  They  have  <-iuiQlicned  and  in- 
structed me.  Indeed,  his  Lectures  and  Mr.  Tiiom's  give  mo 
new  hope  for  the  cause  of  truth  in  England.  Not  that  I 
expect  any  great  immediate  effect ;  but  nol»le  spiritual  action 
in  a  few  is  an  augury  of  good  which  cannot  fail.  I  differ, 
as  I  think  I  told  you,  from  some  of  your  brother's  exposi- 
tions ;  but  no  matter ;  I  do  not  enjoy  his  mind  the  less." 

'' Septemler  10,  184L*  Old  Unitarianism  must  undergo 
important  modification  or  developments.  Thus  I  have  felt 
for  years.  Though  an  advance  on  previous  systems,  and 
bearing  some  better  fruits,  it  docs  not  work  deeply,  it  does 
not  strike  living  springs  in  the  soul.  This  is  perfectly  con- 
sistent with  the  profound  piety  of  individuals  of  the  body. 
But  it  cannot  quicken  and  regenerate  the  world.  No  matter 
how  reasonable  it  may  be,  if  it  is  without  power.  Its  his- 
tory is  singular.  It  began  as  a  protest  against  the  rejection 
of  reason,  —  against  mental  slavery.  It  pledged  itself  to 
progress,  as  its  life  and  end;  but  it  has  gradually  grown 
stationary,  and  now  we  have  a  Unitarian  Orthodoxy.  Per- 
haps this  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  or  deplored,  for  all  re- 
forming bodies  seem  doomed  to  stop,  in  order  to  keep  the 
ground,  much  or  little,  which  they  have  gained.  They  be- 
come conservative,  and  out  of  them  must  spring  new  reform- 
ers, to  be  persecuted  generally  by  the  old.  With  these 
views,  I  watch  all  new  movements  with  great  interest." 

"  Boston,  November,  184Lt  That  further  Inquiry  will 
lead  you  to  think  as  I  do,  I  am  by  no  means  sure ;  but  that  it 
will  modify  your  traditional   belief,  and   give  you  clearer, 

*  To  the  Rev.  James  Martineau,  Liverpool, 
t  To  Mr.  Harland  Coulus,  Mahon. 


400  RELIGION    AND   PHILOSOPHY. 

more  quickening  views  of  Chi'istianity,  I  cannot  doubt.  I 
seem  to  myself  to  be  free  from  sectarian  biases.  That  any 
existing  sect  should  put  down  all  others  would  be  but  a  sec- 
ondary good.  What  I  feel  is,  that  Christianity,  as  expounded 
by  all  our  sects,  is  accomplishing  its  divine  purpose  most 
imperfectly,  and  -that  we  want  a  reformation  worthy  of  the 
name ;  that,  instead  of  enslaving  ourselves  to  any  existing 
pect,  we  should  seek,  by  a  new  cleansing  of  our  hearts,  and 
more  earnestness  of  prayer,  brighter,  purer,  more  quicken- 
mg  views  of  Christianity. 

"  I  value  Unitarianism,  not  because  I  regard  it  as  in  itself 
a  perfect  system,  but  as  freed  from  many  great  and  per- 
nicious errors  of  the  older  systems,  as  encouraging  freedom 
of  thought,  as  raising  us  above  the  despotism  of  the  Church, 
and  as  breathing  a  mild  and  tolerant  spirit  into  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Christian  body.  Metliodism  seems  to  me  to  have 
done  much  good  ;  but  I  apprehend  its  day  is  drawing  to  a 
close.  It  is  a  system  of  ecclesiastical  oppression.  The  con- 
centration of  power  in  the  Conference  is  intolerable,  and  I 
see  not  how  any  free  spirit  can  brook  it.  We  are  to  be 
Christ's  freemen,  not  instruments  in  the  hands  of  our  fellow- 
creatures.  I  owe  so  much  to  spiritual.  Christian  liberty  my- 
self, that  I  mourn  over  every  infraction  of  it,  and  earnestly 
desire  to  secure  it  to  all  my  Christian  brethren. 

"  I  wish  you  the  best  blessings  from  on  high,  the  '  Spirit 
of  Truth,'  growing  light,  and  growing  love." 

^'■Philadelphia.,  May  11,  1842.*  Just  as  I  was  leaving 
Boston,  I  was  told  that  there   was  an  indisj)osition   to  aia 

• 's  church,  on  the  ground  of  his  peculiar  views  of  the 

Christian  ordinances.  He  believes  in  the  fitness  of  a  rile 
or  service  commemorating  Christ's  death,  but  wishes  to  omit 
the  outward  signs,  believing  that  among  us  the  letter  inter- 

•  To  N.  L.  Frotiiingham,  D.  D. 


UNITARIANISM.  401 

feros  with  the  spirit,  and  that  Christ  regards  the  spirit  alone. 
That  assistance  should  be  withheld  on  this  ground  from  a 

church  which  has  so  many  claims  as 's  is  a  cause  of 

grief  to  me 

•  "  Have  we  no  proof  here  that  the  Unitarian  body  is  for- 
saking '  its  first  love  '  ?  Unitarianism  was  distinguished  by 
its  separation  of  the  essential  from  the  unessential  in  Chris- 
tianity, by  its  clear  discernment  of  the  moral,  spiritual  pur- 
pose of  this  religion,  and  by  its  liberality  and  respect  for  the 
rights  of  individual  judgment.  To  withhold  aid  and  counte- 
nance from  a  church  which  agrees  with  us  in  these  funda- 
mentals, on  account  of  its  difference  in  a  matter  of  form,  and 
of  its  zeal,  though  excessive,  for  the  essential  and  the  spirit- 
ual in  Christianity,  is  certainly  no  proof  of  the  liberaHty  to 
which  we  lay  claim.  The  church  in  question  contains  witliin 
itself  all  the  means  of  Christian  edification,  with  the  single 
exception,  that  it  dispenses  with  certain  symbols  in  a  rite. 
Is  this  a  difference  to  be  thought  of  in  such  a  case  ?  Must 
our  brethren  be  taught  that  on  this  point  they  must  think  and 
practise  as  we  do,  or  forfeit  our  sympathy  ?  Is  this  a 
ground  on  which  to  run  up  a  wall  of  partition  ?  Is  this 
to  be  made  a  denominational  fence  by  the  friends  of  free 
inquiry  ? 

"  I  can  conceive  of  differences  of  opinion  on  the  higher 
truths  of  religion  so  grave  as  to  occasion  us  some  perplexity 
as  to  giving  aid  to  an  infant  church,  —  though  even  here 
our  error  should  be  on  the  side  of  liberality,  and  we  should 
fear  to  lay  fetters  on  the  honest  inquirer  for  truth.  But  in  a 
matter  of  outward  religion,  where  there  is  so  much  ground 
for  diversity  of  judgment,  and  where  such  diversity  touches 
nothing  vital,  I  do  fear  that  we  prove  ourselves  'carnal,' 
outward,  earthly,  unspiritual,  and  sectarian,  when  for  such 
cause  we  deny  sympathy  and  aid  to  single-hearted,  earnest 
brethren,  who  are  laboring  to  '  hold  fast  the  light '  under 
great  discouragements,  amidst  the  darkness  of  antiquated, 
34* 


402  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

intolerant  systems  of  theology.  I  beg  you  to  think  of  this 
letter  and  make  such  use  of  it  as  you  may  judge  proper.'' 

Thus  does  it  appear  how  truly  Dr.  Channing  said  of 
Inmself,  —  "I  desire  to  escape  the  narrow  walls  of  a  par- 
ticular church,  and  to  live  under  the  open  sky,  in  the 
broad  light,  looking  far  and  wide,  seeing  with  my  own 
eyes,  hearing  with  my  own  ears,  and  following  truth 
meekly,  but  resolutely,  however  arduous  or  solitary  be 
the  path  in  which  she  leads."*  To  him  there  was  "  one 
church,  grander  than  all  particular  ones,  however  exten- 
sive,—  spread  over  all  lands,  and  one  with  the  church  in 

heaven, the  family  of  the  pure  in  all  worlds, 

the  innumerable  multitude  of  the  holy  everywhere." 
"With  this  church  he  felt  bound  by  "  vital,  everlasting 
connection,"  and  regarded  himself  as  "  a  member  of  a 
vast  spiritual  community,  as  joint  heir  and  fellow-wor- 
shipper with  the  goodly  company  of  Christian  heroes 
who  have  gone  before." f  The  grand  "  heresy  "  to  him 
was  the  substitution  of  any  thing,  "  whether  creed,  or 
form,  or  church,  for  the  goodness  which  is  essentially, 
everlastingly,  by  its  own  nature,  lovely,  glorious,  divine, 

which  is  the  sun  of  the  spiritual  universe, 

which  is  God  himself  dwelling  in  the  human  soul." 
Growth  in  goodness  was  what  he  longed  for  throughout 
Christendom. 

Let  us  now  briefly  describe  the  work,  wherein,  as  we 
have  seen.  Dr.  Channing  so  earnestly  hoped  to  embody, 
with  some  degree  of  organic  symmetry,  the  truths  which, 
through  long  years,  he  had  been  assimilating.      It  was  to 

'  WoiUs,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  211. 

*  Works,  Vol.  VI.,  pp.  203,  205,  208,  223,224. 


PEKFECTION    OF    MAN,  403 

have  borne  the  title,  apparently,  of  "  The  Principles  of  ■^ 
JNforal,  Religious,  and  Political  Science  "  ;  and  the  fol- 
lowing extracts  from  a  first  draft  of  the  Introduction  wiL 
show  the  author's  stand-point. 

•  "  In  a  work  devoted  to  the  exposition  of  moral,  religious, 
and  political  truth,  a  minute  description  of  all  the  principles 
and  powers  of  human  nature  will  not  be  expected.  Vol- 
umes would  be  needed  for  the  fit  discussion  of  such  a  topic. 
The  TRUE  PERFECTION  of  man  is  the  great  idea  of  the 
moral  sciences.  His  nature  is  therefore  to  be  examined  so 
as  to  determine  its  central  law,  and  the  end  for  which  all 
religious  and  political  institutions  should  be  established  ;  it  is 
to  be  studied  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  its  true  propor- 
tions, its  highest  powers,  the  relations  of  its  affections  and 
faculties  to  each  other,  its  ruling  principles.  , 

"  In  every  department  of  nature  we  discern  differences 
and  varieties.  The  universe  is  not  a  monotonous  repetition 
of  one  form  of  being.  Each  single  object  is  composed  of  a 
variety  of  parts ;  each  sustains  various  relations,  exercises 
various  functions,  is  receptive  of  various  influences.  Nor 
are  all  parts  of  equal  importance ;  some  are  prominent, 
others  subordinate  ;  some  essential,  others  accidental  ;  some 
are  ends,  and  others  means.  The  same  properties  also  are 
developed  in  an  infinite  variety  of  degrees.  As  each  color 
presents  an  indefinite  number  of  shades,  so  each  power  of 
living  creatures  is  manifested  with  a  like  diversity  of  intense- 
ness.  In  beings  of  the  same  class  are  found  all  possible  dif- 
ferences in  the  degrees  of  their  correspondence  to  the  stand- 
ard or  type  of  the  class.  Thus  nature  everywhere  reveals 
Variety,  Difference,  Relation,  Degrees,  Order,  Perfection. 

"  That  Human  Nature  should  present  to  us  a  similar  va- 
riety is  to  be  expected  from  the  analogies  which  are  seen  to 
pervade  the  universe.  Man  is  not  a  single  power,  but  a 
wonderful  diversity  of  pi'operties  are  combined  in  his  consti* 


404  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

tution.  The  laws  which  control  the  material  world  are  in 
him  conjoined  with  the  energies  of  mind.  That  his  various 
organs,  faculties,  functions,  differ  in  importance,  —  that  some 
are  ends,  while  others  are  means,  —  that  some  are  supremo 
and  others  suboi'dinate,  —  that  there  is  an  Order  or  Harmo- 
ny of  powers  in  which  consists  the  perfection  of  the  humaa 
being,  —  may  be  confidently  inferred  from  the  laws  of  vari- 
ety, degrees,  order,  which  govern  the  universe 

/  "  All  our  inquiries  in  morals,  religion,  and  politics  must 
begin  with  human  natui'e.  The  ends  for  which  a  being  is 
made,  his  relations,  his  true  course  of  conduct,  depend  upon 
his  nature.  To  comprehend  the  former,  we  must  under- 
stand the  latter.  Accordingly,  certain  views  of  man  are  in- 
volved in  all  speculations  about  the  objects  of  life  and  the 
proper  sphere  of  human  action.  On  such  views  all  schemes 
of  society  and  legislation  are  built.  Every  groat  statesman, 
every  reformer  who  has  introduced  a  revolution  in  the 
affairs  of  nations,  has  been  impelled  and  guided  by  his  esti- 
mate of  man.  It  is  the  want  of  a  true  science  of  our  na- 
ture, that  has  vitiated  all  past  systems  of  government, 
morals,  and  religion.  No  book  can  be  written  wisely,  no 
plan  wisely  formed  for  the  improvement  of  mankind,  which 
has  not  its  origin  in  just  reverence  of  the  powers  of  the 
human  spirit.  And  not  only  is  it  ti*ue,  that  morals,  religion, 
and  politics,  in  their  application  to  masses  of  men,  must  have 
their  foundation  in  certain  views  of  human  nature ;  but 
every  individual's  principles,  his  whole  system  of  duty,  will 
take  its  character  from  the  light  in  which  he  regards  himself 
and  his  race.  All  the  relations  of  life  will  wear  different 
aspects  to  men  who  interpret  differently  the  beings  by  whom 
they  are  sustained. 

'■'  Just    views  of  hiunan    nature  arc,  then,   all-important. 
^   In  comprehending  man,  we  comprehend  God,  Duty,  Life, 
Death,  Providence  ;  we   have  the  key  to  the  Divine  admin- 
istration of  the  world.     In  proportion  as  man  is  made  known 


FLAN    OF    THE    WORK. 


405 


to  us,  wc  learn  wliy  he  was  placed  upon  earth,  and  see  the 
explanation  of  the  discipline  which  is  appointed  to  him  here. 
The  mysteries  of  his  childhood,  progress,  and  maturity,  of 
his  joys  and  sorrows,  of  his  temptations  and  sins,  gradually 
clear  away.  Even  material  nature  becomes  revealed  to  ub 
in  a  new  light.  In  proportion  as  we  understand  man,  — 
God's  greatest  work,  —  we  understand  inferior  creation; 
wc  discover  new  adaptations  of  the  outward  and  the  inward 
worlds,  new  analogies  between  nature  and  the  human  spirit ; 
iie  Unity  of  the  Universe  dawns  upon  us." 

Eight  chapters  only  of  the  First  Part  of  this  work  — 
vhich,  in  accordance  with  the  preceding  remarks,  was 
levoted  to  an  analytic  and  synthetic  view  of  human  na- 
ure  —  were  composed.  The  order  of  their  arrange- 
nent  and  their  titles  are  as  follows  :  —  I.  Sensation  ; 
11.  Idea  of  Matter;  III.  Idea  of  the  I  or  Self; 
tV.  External  Perception  ;  V.  Internal  Perception  ; 
VI.  Conception  ;  VII.  Memory  ;  VIII.  Discernment 
.if  Relations.  The  plan  of  the  author  was  plainly  to 
.race,  by  ascending  degrees,  the  Order,  Proportion, 
♦larmony,  of  man's  powers  ;  and  thus,  by  proceeding 
nward,  from  functions  and  relations  which  are  most  su- 
,'erficial  and  accidental,  to  those  which  are  most  central 
■»7\d  essential,  to  exhibit  an  ideal  of  a  perfect  human 
A'^eing.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  inform  a  reader  of 
/>r.  Channing's  writings,  that  he  recognized  as  the  su- 
pieme  power  in  man  the  Conscience  ;  and  that  he  saw 
:r  this  primal  spring  of  moral  energy  an  authoritative 
manifestation  of  absolute  right,  justly  entitling  it  to  be 
called  the  Oracle  of  God.  Morality,  in  his  view,  flowed 
out  from,  and  ascended  up  to,  religion  ;  the  finite  will 
was  for  ever  newly  animated  from  the  Infinite  Will ; 
and  goodness  was  the  inspiration  of  the  All-Good. 


406 


RELIGIOA^    AN©    PHILOSOPHY. 


,  Thus  from  Man,  the  author  would  have  been  led  to 
speak,  in  the  Second  Part  of  his  work,  of  God,  whom  he 
saw  revealed  in  human  nature  and  the  universe,  as  the 
One,  Eternal,  infinite  Person,  whose  essence  and  energy 
are  love,  the  Heavenly  Father,  who  creates  all  spirits  in 
his  own  image,  and  continually  recreates  them  by  his  in- 
flowing life.  Man  he  considered  as  actually  a  child  of 
God,  in  exact  proportion  to  the  degree  of  the  fulness 
and  constancy  of  his  communion  with  the  Father  of 
Spirits.  The  process  of  a  progressive  life  he  believed 
to  be  a  perpetual  regeneration.  The  end  of  man's  des- 
tiny to  which  he  should  aspire  was  oneness  with  the 
Eternal  Being  ;  and  in  Jesus  Christ  —  whatever  his  rank 
in  creation  and  whatever  his  previous  modes  of  exist- 
ence —  he  saw  with  grateful  trust  and  all-animating  hope 
a  manifestation  of  the  glory  to  which  man  individually 
and  collectively  is  welcomed. 

Having  thus  in  the  central  portion  of  his  book  pre- 
sented the  perfection  of  human  nature  in  its  unity  with 
the  Divine  Being,  as  a  reality.  Dr.  Channing  would  have 
1/  passed  in  the  Third  Part  to  announce  the  laws  of  duty, 
personal  and  social,  which  necessarily  proceed  from  the 
principles  which  he  had  established.  In  ethics  and  poli- 
tics, as  in  religion,  his  leading  aim  was  the  spiritualization 
of  man  through  the  practical  embodiment  of  Divine  char- 
ity, in  every  relation  of  domestic,  industrial,  commercial, 
national  life.  He  was  assured  that  the  law  of  love  could 
be  applied  at  once  to  the  most  comprehensive  and  most 
minute  concerns  of  human  intercourse.  He  anticipated 
with  unfaltering  faith  the  coming  of  an  era  of  Universal 
Brotherhood,  when  freedom  and  order  would  be  perfect- 
ly harmonized,  and  when  mankind  the  earth  round  would 


TRUTHS    AND    CO.NJECTUKliS  407 

be  united  in  one  cooperative  family  of  the  children  of 
God  * 

Dr.  Channing   has  been  niisapprehended^alike  by  his 
admirers  and   critics,    through  the   supposition,  that  ho 
assumed  to  teach  a  much  more  definite  system  than  he 
ever  considered  himself  as  having  attained  to.     He  left 
many  views  aside  which  others  earnestly  advocated,  not 
because  he  denied  them,  but  because  he  could  not  verify 
them.     He    had    early  learned  to  discriminate  between 
truths  and   conjectures,  and   he   was   as  conscientiously 
strict  in   his  statement  of  the   former  as  he  was  unre- 
strainedly free  in  speculating  upon  the  latter.      His  soul 
was  illuminated  with  the  idea  of  the  absolute,  immutable 
glory  of  Moral  Good  ;  and  reverence  for  conscience  is 
the  key  to  his  whole  doctrine  of  human  destiny  and  duty. 
Many    difficult    metaphysical    points    he    passed    wholly 
by,  as  being  out  of  the  sphere  alike  of  intuition  and  of 
experience,  and  in  relation  to  them  was  willing  to  con- 
fess his  ignorance.     He  believed,  to  be  sure,  in  the  pos- 
sibility of  man's  gaining  some  insight  of  Universal  Order, 
and   respected  the  lofty  aspiration  which  prompts  men 
to  seek  a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  Divine  Laws  ;  but 
he  considered  pretensions  to  Absolute  Science  as  quite 
premature,   saw  more  boastfulness  than  wisdom  in  an- 
cient and  modern  schemes  of  philosophy,  and  was  not  a 
little  amused  at  the  complacent   confidence  with  which 
quite  evidently  fallible  theorists  assumed  to  stand  at  the 

•  In  so  brief  a  sketch,  it  is  of  course  impossible  to  do  any  justice  to 
theviewsof  Dr.  Channing,  but  it  is  hoped,  that  in  the  volumes  of 
Sermons  and  of  Fragments,  which  the  editor  of  these  papers  proposes 
hereafter  to  publish,  something  may  be  done  to  exhibit,  with  satisfac- 
tory completenesa,  his  "  principles  of  moral,  religious,  and  political 


science. 


•108  HELIGION    AND    PHiLOSOPHY. 

centre,  and  to  scan  and  depict  the  panorama  of  existence 
For  himself,  he  was  content  to  wait. 

Much  of  his  correspondence  is  interesting,  however, 
as  reveahng  his  habits  of  thought  and  inquiry,  and  ena- 
bling us  to  recognize  his  cherished  views  in  relation  to 
Man,  the  Divine  Being,  and  Christianity.  With  ample 
extracts,  therefore,  from  his  letters  upon  theological  and 
philosophical  subjects,  this  chapter  shall  be  closed. 

"  Novemher  29,  1828.*  I  have  road  the  book  t  you  sent 
me  with  much  interest.  The  phrenological  part,  I  fear,  did 
me  little  good.  I  have  a  strong  aversion  to  theories  which 
subject  the  mind  to  the  body  ;  and,  believing  this  to  be  the 
effect  of  phrenology,  I  have  not  felt  the  obligation  to  study 
it,  and,  to  say  the  truth,  I  am  veiy  ignorant  of  it.  I  have 
been  instructed  by  your  views  of  the  laws  of  our  nature, 
and  of  the  connection  between  our  obedience  to  them  and 
our  happiness.  I  respond  joyfully  to  the  hope  you  express 
of  the  progress  of  the  human  race,  though  1  do  not  expect 
that  any  improvements  of  the  race  will  exempt  the  individual 
from  the  necessity  of  struggle  and  self-denial  in  the  forma- 
tion of  his  own  character,  or  will  in  any  way  do  for  him 
what  every  free  being  must  do  for  himself.  I  was  particu- 
larly gratified  by  the  earnestness  with  which  you  insist  on 
the  supremacy  of  the  moral  faculties,  and  point  out  the  inev- 
itable miseries  which  society  is  to  endure  until  this  funda- 
mental principle  be  recognized  by  the  individual  and  the 
community. 

"  I  send  you  a  discourse  recently  published  by  me. 
You  say,  you  are  not  of  my  pei*suasion.  I  hope  this  dis- 
course, with  all  its  defects,  will  show  that  I  am  devoted  to 
no  party,  but  that  I   would   promote,  to  the  extent  of   my 

*  To  George  Conibc,  Esq.,  Edinburgh, 
t  The  Constitution  of  Man. 


THE    FUTURE    LIFE.  409 

power,  the  cause  of  our  common  Christianity  ana   of  the 
human  race. 

"  I  am,  with  great  regard,  your  filS'nd." 

"  Boston,  March  6,  1829.*  The  idea  of  death  as  sep 
arating  us  from  the  outward  universe,  and  shutting  us  up  in 
our  own  minds,  seems  to  me  quite  the  reverse  of  the  truth. 
Revelation  speaks  very  distinctly  of  another  organization 
which  we  are  to  receive  hereafter,  and  which  I  consider  as 
a  means  of  communication  with  all  God's  works.  This 
doctrine  seems  to  me  veiy'rational.  There  is  a  progression 
in  every  part  of  nature,  and  to  suppose  the  mind  to  emerge 
from  its  present  connection  with  gross  matter  to  a  purely 
spiritual  existence  is  to  imagine  a  violent  transition,  quite 
irreconcilable  with  this  great  principle.  Death  is  not  to 
separate  the  mind  from  matter,  but,  in  the  case  of  the  virtu- 
ous, is  to  raise  it  from  its  present  subjection  to  matter  to  a 
glorious  triumph  over  it.  I  confess,  I  cannot  think  without 
depression  of  breaking  all  my  ties  to  the  material  universe. 
When  I  think  of  its  infinite  extent,  of  the  countless  worlds 
which  astronomy  discloses  to  me,  I  feel  that  material  nature, 
including  all  the  beings  connected  with  it,  must  offer  infinite 
food  for  the  mind,  unbounded  and  inexhaustible  discoveries 
of  God.  Then  I  find,  that,  just  as  fast  as  my  mind  unfolds, 
my  delight  in  the  universe  increases ;  new  correspondences 
are  revealed  between  the  inward  and  the  outward  world  ; 
a  diviner  light  beams  from  the  creation ;  a  more  thrilling, 
voice  comes  from  it.  I  cannot  endure  the  thought  of  being 
severed  from  this  harmonious  and  glorious  univcree.  I  ex- 
pect death  to  multiply  my  connections  with  it,  and  to  enlarge 
my  knowledge  of  and  power  over  it. 

"Your  friend  would    limit  us  to  purely  moral  pleasures 
after  death.     Why  so  ?     One  of  the  great  excellences  of 

•  To  Miss  Ruth  P.  Olney. 
VOL.    II.  35 


410  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY 

moral  good  is,  that  it  aids  us  to  enjoy  all  other  good.  Ti.e 
most  perfect  man  is  not  he  who  confines  himself  to  purely 
moral  gratifications,  but  he  who  has  a  moral  energy  through 
which  all  things  are  received  and  enjoyed  by  him  in  a  wise 
order  and  in  just  proportions.  Other  gratifications,  thus 
controlled,  become  moral.  In  another  world,  our  pleasures 
are  to  be  diversified  and  multiplied.  The  outward  creation 
—  if  on  such  a  subject  I  may  be  allowed  to  speculate  —  will 
minister  an  increasing  variety  of  exquisite  sensations,  of 
which  sight  and  hearing  are  but  types." 

"■Portsmouth,  R.  /.,  July  25,  1829.*  You  want,  you 
say,  a  better  body.  Our  comfort  is,  that,  in  wearing  out 
this  body  in  well-doing,  we  are  earning  a  better  one ;  and 
perhaps  the  agency  of  the  mind  and  of  our  present  life  in 
detei'mining  the  future  frame  is  greater  than  we  imagine." 

"  St.  Croix,  W.  J.,  February  6,  1831.t  I  believe  in  this 
divine  principle,  this  ray  of  divine  light,  in  the  soul.  But 
instead  of  thinking  it  a  foreign  aid,  I  regard  it  as  the  very 
essence  of  the  soul,  the  central  principle  of  our  nature,  — 
so  central,  deep,  and  ineradicable,  that  all  the  appetites  and 
passions  are  comparatively  superficial.  To  bring  the  child 
to  a  consciousness  of  the  divinity  within  him  seems  to  me 
the  highest  office  which  parents  and  teachers  can  perform. 
He  should  be  led  to  understand  and  feel  that  his  moral  na- 
ture—  the  principle  which  speaks  of  duty,  which  discerns 
the  obligations  of  virtue,  which  carries  in  itself  the  presenti- 
ment cf  a  moral  government  of  the  univei^e  —  is  the  voice 
of  God,  a  light  from  heaven,  an  infinite  germ,  a  power 
given  him  for  endless  development,  and  under  which  our 
whole  nature  is  to  be  unfolded  in  health  and  beauty.  I  con- 
sider the  knowledge  of  God  as  important,  chicHy  as  it  shows 

"  To  Joseph  Tuckennan,  D.  D.  t  To  Miss  Emily  Taylor 


combe's  philosophy.  411 

his  intimate  connection  and  constant  communication  witli 
the  soul,  and  thus  awakens  in  us  the  consciousness  of  Di- 
vine relationship,  of  being  formed  for  perpetual  approach  to 
God  in  his  highest  attributes.  I  consider  Christianity  as 
built  upon  and  adapted  to  these  views  of  human  nature. 
VVithout  ihc  divine  principle  of  which  I  have  spoken,  I  can 
see  no  ground  of  accountableness,  no  capacity  of  religion, 
no  need  of  the  Gospel.  To  give  this  principle  the  victory 
over  sin  and  all  hostile  influences  is  the  very  purpose  of  our 
religion.  '  This  is  the  victory  that  overcometh  the  world, 
even  our  faith.'  Here  we  learn  the  true  salvation  and  hap- 
piness achieved  by  faith." 

*  St.  Croix,  April  11,  1831.*  I  refer  to  your  outhnes  of 
moral  philosophy.  Your  opinions  on  this  point  of  science 
seem  to  me  very  valuable.  With  many  of  them  I  entirely 
accord.  That  our  physical  nature  has  been  too  much  over- 
looked by  those  who  have  treated  it,  I  fully  agree.  That  its 
end  and  means  have  been  very  imperfectly  understood  is 
equally  true.  It  is  my  hope  to  do  something  in  this  field  ; 
and  I  should  undoubtedly  differ  from  you  in  some  important 
particulars.  You  would  place  me  among  the  '  abstract '  au- 
thors who  do  not  study  and  teach  human  nature  '  practi- 
cally,' and  very  possibly  you  would  censure  me  with  some 
reason.  I  earnestly  wish  that  you  would  supply  the  defect 
by  executing  your  own  plan.  You  doubt  your  ability  ;  but 
the  conception  of  it  shows  that  you  have  no  reason  for  fear. 

The  success  of  your  '  Constitution  of  Man '  in  our 

country  has  been  such  as  must  gratify  and  reward  you.  It 
has  found  general  favor.  The  Swedcnborgians  (who,  in 
fact,  republished  it)  are  particularly  interested  in  it,  —  why, 
I  know  not,  for  I  read  few  of  their  books.  I  have  heard  of 
high    commendation  of  it  from   a  distinguished  Calvinistic 

*  To  George  Combe,  Esq. 


412  RELIGION    AiND    PHILOSOPHY. 

divine  ;  and  as  to  the  more  liberal  class,  they  have  highly 
approved  and  recommended  it.  Some  of  its  doctrines  have 
found  ilieir  way  into  the  pulpit.  I  iiave  met  on  this  island 
a  lady  from  America,  of  much  distinction  in  the  fashionable 
world,  who  had  brought  it  with  her  as  a  text-book,  and  lent 
it  very  freely  to  the  intelligent  here.  She  tells  me  that  a 
gentleman  of  Philadelphia  bought  fifty  or  a  hundred  copies 
of  it  —  all  he  could  find  —  for  distribution,  believing  that 
he  could  not  do  more  good.  Tlie  common  remark  is,  how- 
ever, that  the  book  is  excellent  in  spite  of  its  phrenology." 

''St.  Croix,  W.  L,  April  24,  1831.*  I  received  some- 
time ago  your  aphorisms,  entitled  '  The  New  Era  of  Chris- 
tianity,' and  I  hope  you  will  not  consider  my  delaying  to 
answer  your  letter  as  any  evidence  of  indifference  to  its 
object.  It  gives  me  great  satisfaction  to  find  men  waking 
up  anywhere  to  the  present  degraded  state  of  Christianity, 
and  thirsting  and  hoping  for  a  purer  form  of  it.  I  was  the 
more  interested  in  your  communication  from  the  circum- 
stance of  iiaving  read  with  great  pleasure,  and  I  hope  profit, 
your  dissertations  on  Methodism  or  Evangelical  Religion, 
and  on  the  Spirit  of  Christianity.  I  met  with  these  acciden- 
tally, and  sent  for  them  to  England,  and  have  circulated 
them  among  my  intelligent  friends.  I  find  much  in  your 
aphorisms  to  approve,  and  perhaps  my  objections,  were  I 
to  make  any,  would  apply  to  what  I  think  their  defects 
rather  than  to  positive   errors. 

"  I  could  wish  that  the  moral  perfeclion,  which  is  the 
great  aim  of  Christianity  and  the  ultimate  design  of  human 
existence,  might  be  set  forth  in  a  more  enlarged  and  excit- 
ing form.  I  could  wish  that  the  parental  character  of  (Jod 
might  be  taught  more  as  a  moral  relation  founded  on  the 
affinity  of  the  Divine  with  the  human  mind,  and  having  for 

•  To  William  Burns,  Esq ,  Saltcoats,  Scotland. 


CHRISTIAN    VIRTUE.  413 

its  end  the  elevation  of  the  latter  to  greater  and  ever-in- 
creasing Hkencss  to  the  former.     I  would  \mvc  men  taught 
that  Josus  Christ  has  no  other  or  greater  good  to  give  than 
the  improvement  of  the  human  soul,  than  the  communica- 
tion of  his  own  virtue,  that  goodness  is  essentially  one  and 
the  same  thing  with  lieaven,  and  that  every  other  good  sep- 
arated  from  this  is  delusive  and  worthless.     One  of  the  im- 
portant evidences  of  Christianity,  as  yet  hardly  touched  upon, 
should  occupy  a  new  place  in  the  teaching  by  which  the 
^  New  Era '  is  to  be  introduced.    The  virtue  which  Christian- 
ity  inculcates,  and  which  was  embodied  in  Christ,  should  be 
proved,  as  it  has  not  been,  to  be  or  to  constitute  the  perfection 
of  himan  nature,  or  to  involve  the  vigorous,  harmonious,  be- 
neficent  action  of  all  its  powers  and  atfcctions.     This  adap- 
tation of  the  religion  to  our  spiritual  nature,  to  its  develop- 
ment,  life,  energy,  peace,  health,  and  perpetual  growth,  — this 
fitness  and  power  of  Christianity  to  connect  us  by  endearing 
and  generous  bonds  with  God,  and  his  whole  rational  of^ 
spring,  so  that  we  shall  receive  most  and  communicate  most, 
or  become  living  members  of  the  '  whole  family  of  heaven 
and  earth,'  — this,  I  think,  is  an  evidence  of  the  divine  ori- 
gin  of  our  religion,  particularly  suited  to  its  more  advanced 
stages,  and  suited   to   give  man  the   conviction   so   much 
needed,  that  Christian   virtue  is  the  supreme    good    to  be 
sought,  first  for  themselves  and  then  for  their  race. 

"  Perhaps  I  owe  to  my  views  some  better  exposition,  but 
you  will  probably  understand  in  what  respect  I  should  mod. 
ify  your  aphorisms.  As  I  said,  I  see  in  them  much  to  which 
I  respond.  What  Christian  virtue  is,  what  the  regencra- 
tion  is  which  society  needs,  you  have  expressed  justly,  I 
think,  as  far  as  you  have  gone,  and  this  is  an  immense  point 
gained.  I  shall  be  truly  happy  to  hear  further  from  you, 
and  to  take  part  in  the  good  work  of  carrying  forward 
society.  I  am,  however,  not  worth  much  as  a  laborer. 
I  am  now  in  the  West  Indies  seeking  health,  and  shall  re- 
35* 


414  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHT. 

turn  to  my  country  in  a  few  days,  with  no  great  addition 
of  strength. 

"  Very  truly,  your  friend. 

«  Rhode  Island,  August  29,  1831.*'  If  it  will  afford  you 
any  satisfaction,  I  ought  to  say  tliat  my  views  on  the  doc- 
trine wliich  you  have  examined  were  mucli  the  same  witli 
yours.  At  the  same  time  I  would  add,  that  for  years  I  havi> 
felt  a  decreased  interest  in  settling  the  precise  rank  of  Jesua 
Christ.  The  power  of  his  character  seems  to  me  to  lie  in 
his  spotless  purity,  his  moral  perfection^  and  not  in  the  time 
during  which  he  has  existed.  I  have  attached  less  impor- 
tance to  this  point,  from  having  learned  that  all  minds  are 
of  one  famihj,  that  the  human  and  the  angelic  nature  are 
essentially  one.  Holding  this  doctrine,  I  am  not  shocked  as 
many  are  by  the  Humanharian  system.  Still,  it  seems  to 
me  to  labor  under  serious  objections ;  nor  am  I  at  all  in- 
fluenced by  the  argument  which  its  disciples  insist  upon  so 
earnestly,  that  it  brings  Jesus  nearer  to  us.  His  moral  per- 
fection seems  to  me  his  groat  peculiarity  and  separation 
from  all  human  beings,  and  this  remains  the  same  on  all 
1,'ystems,  and  is  more  inexplicable  on  the  Humanitarian  sys- 
em  than  on  any  other." 

"  Boston,  March  20th,  1832.  That  there  must  be  a  num- 
ber ready  to  receive  Christianity  in  the  purest  form  in  which 
it  can  be  dispensed  I  cannot  doubt.  I  am  more  and  more 
satisfied  that  the  policy  which  modifies  Christianity  to  adapt 
t  to  the  human  mind  is  as  unwise  as  it  is  irreligious.  I 
ft'isli  men  would  go  forth,  strong  in  the  faitli  that  their  best 
md  piotoundcst  views  of  religion,  if  brought  out  clearly 
and  \>'tn  the  signs  of  strong  conviction,  will  find  prepared 
spirits.     Christianity  is   founded  on   what  is   universal  and 

*  To  Mrs.  Joanna  Baillio. 


RELATIONS    OF    GOD    WITH    MAN.  415 

everlasting  in  human  nature.  Our  appeal  must  be  made, 
not  to  wealth  or  temporary  feelings,  but  to  ilic  mora!  con- 
sciousness of  man,  the  consciousness  of  a  spiritual  and 
accountable  nature.  I  liave  less  and  less  faith  in  address- 
ing religion  to  classes,  or  of  setting  it  forth  as  the  means  of 
acting  on  and  carrying  them  forward.  It  must  be  addressed 
to  the  individual  soul,  and  be  set  forth  as  revealing  the 
infinite  worth,  and  as  alone  commensurate  with  tlie  wants, 
of  the  soul.  Each  man  should  feel  the  greatness  of  his 
own  spirit,  —  that  it  is  so  great  as  to  justify  all  the  mighty 
operations  of  Christianity,  were  there  no  other  spirit  which 
needed  i-edemption.  We  are  to  go  forth  with  a  deep  feel- 
ing of  the  unspeakable  worth,  wants,  and  perils  of  each 
fioul,  and  awaken  this  consciousness  in  him  that  hears." 

"  Boston,  March  30,  1832.*  I  suppose  that  my  desire  to 
express  strongly  the  intimate  connection  between  man  and 
God  leads  me  sometimes  to  use  a  mystical  language,  which 
fieems  to  imply  that  I  confound  these  beings.  No  one, 
however,  can  be  less  inclined  to  this  form  of  mysticism  than 
myself.  I  have  friends  who  lean  to  Pantheism,  with  whom 
I  often  contend  for  our  individual,  distinct  existence,  and  who 
would  quite  enjoy  your  misapprehension  of  my  views.  It 
seems  that  I  '  .spoke  of  the  soul  as  divine,'  by  which  I  must 
have  meant  to  express  the  affinity  of  its  spiritual  powers 
with  the  Divine  nature,  —  to  express  particularly  its  capacity 
of  sympathy  with  the  moral  perfections  of  God,  of  con- 
forming itself  to  them  without  limit  or  end.  This  corre- 
spondence of  the  soul  to  God,  this  tendency  to  him,  this 
sensibility  to  the  good,  the  great,  and  the  infinite,  this  prin- 
ciple of  virtue  or  inward  law,  impelling  to  unbounded  prog- 
ress, I  consider  as  the  very  essence  of  human  nature,  need- 
ing aid  and  culture,  but  still  belonging  to  every  soul,  whilst 

•  To  Miss  Emily  Taylor. 


416  KELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

,  if  I  understand  him,  regards  it  as  a  foreign  prina 


pie,  something  added  to  the  mind  by  a  mysterious  operation 
of  the  Holy  Spirit.  I  believe  as  much  as  your  friend  in  the 
Divine  influence.  This  surrounds  us  like  the  atmosphere. 
With  an  ineffable  love  to  the  soul,  which  God  has  made  in 
his  own  image,  he  ministers  to  it,  through  the  univei-se, 
through  outward  nature,  society,  providence,  success,  ad- 
versity, &c.,  and,  still  more,  he  communes  with  it,  and  acts 
in  it  immediately ,  but  always  according  to  its  free  and  high 
nature,  not  to  give  it  new  elements,  but  to  cherish  and  ex- 
pand its  original  and  infinite  capacities,  by  furnishing  objects 
and  incitements  to  their  appropriate  action." 

"  jBos^on,  March  31,  1832.*  I  have  always  inclined  to 
the  doctrine  of  the  preexistence  of  Christ,  though  I  am  not 
insensible  to  the  weight  of  your  objections 

"  My  mind  has  long  been  turned  from  the  controversy  about 
Christ's  person,  as  it  is  called,  though  I  acknowledge  its  im- 
portance. His  spirit,  his  distinguishing  moral  attributes,  the 
purposes  of  his  mission,  —  these  topics  are  so  interesting  as 
to  draw  me  from  controversy 

"You  must  show  that  the  passages  in  the  Epistles  which 
are  thought  to  teach  other  and  hicher  doctrines  than  Jesus 
taught  are  in  fact  only  different  forms  of  the  same  truth,  — 
and  narrower  forms,  being  adaptations  of  it  to  a  particular 
age  and  very  peculiar  state  of  the  Church.  As  long  as  men 
think  they  find  in  the  Epistles  great  principles  not  commu- 
nicated in  the  Gospels,  the  latter  will  puss  only  for  initiatory 
teaching.  Here,  I  apprehend,  is  the  chief  use  of  Biblical 
criticism, —  not  to  disclose  new  truths,  but  to  show  .that  the 
darker  parts  of  the  New  Testament,  which  belong  almost 
wholly  to  the  Epistles,  contain  the  same  doctrine  with  the 
simple  and  luminous  teaching  of  Jesus." 

*  To  William  Burns,  Esq. 


SPIRITUAL    PRIDB.  417 

"  Boston,  September  14,  1833.*  Your  letter  of  July,  just 
received,  gives  mc  great  pleasure.  You  do^c  justice  in 
believing  that  your  freest  remarks  would  be  acceptable.  My 
consciousness  of  great  defects  is  too  strong  to  allow  me  to 
suffer  much,  even  from  unkind  and  malignant  censure.  For 
friendly  criticism  I  have  no  feeling  but  gratitude.  I  must 
suppose  myself  open  to  the  objections  you  haye  made,  be- 
cause others  make  them,  perhaps  most  of  my  readers  •  and 
there  must  be  a  ground  for  general  condemnation.  I  think, 
however,  that  I  am  substantially  right,  and  that,  whilst  I  may 
have  exaggerated  a  truth,  still  the  truth  is  most  important, 
and  needs  to  be  brought  out,  as  it  has  not  yet  been.  You 
think  that  there  is  a  tendency  in  men  to  idolize  their  moral 
powers,  as  they  do  the  wealth  and  rank  to  which  they  are 
born.  Here  I  must  differ  from  you.  I  find  almost  univer- 
sally in  men  a  skepticism  as  to  their  moral  power.  I  find 
almost  all  disposed  to  magnify  the  power  of  passion  and 
temptation,  to  think  themselves  creatures  of  circumstances, 
to  look  on  great  moral  progress  as  an  impossibility,  to  shield 
themselves  from  remorse  under  their  supposed  weakness. 
I  have  seldom,  perhaps  never,  met  a  human  being  who 
seemed  to  me  conscious  of  what  was  in  him.  I  never  saw 
a  man  proud  of  his  moral  force,  or  boasting  of  having  put 
it  forth  in  resistance  of  temptation,  and  in  striving  for  uni- 
versal virtue.  I  have  sometimes  been  almost  inclined  to 
wish  that  I  could  see  this  pride ;  for  men  are  proud  only  of 
that  to  which  they  attach  importance,  and  I  have  wanted 
some  proof  that  any  look  on  moral  energy  as  the  true  dig- 
nity of  the  soul.  Spiritual  pride  finds  its  chief  nutriment,  not 
!n  our  moral  powers,  but  in  special  communications  from 
God,  and  spiritual  influences.  My  grief  at  seeing  men's  self- 
contempt,  at  seeing  their  strange  insensibility  to  the  worth 
of  their  moral  and  intellectual  powers,  and  their  unconscious- 

•  To  William  Burns,  Esq. 


418  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

ness  of  what  they  may  and  ought  to  become,  has  induced 
me  to  insist  as  I  have  done  on  the  topic  which  you 
think  I  have  carried  too  far.  I  have  earnestly  dcsiicd  to 
counteract  what  seems  to  me  one  of  tlic  most  degrading 
effects  of  the  false  theology  of  this  and  past  ages.  This 
theology  has  labored  without  ceasing  to  break  down  human 
nature,  to  cover  it  with  infamy,  to  destroy  all  confidence  in 
its  powers  of  reason  and  conscience,  to  crush  its  energy  and 
hope,  and  has  labored  with  such  success  that  no  human  be- 
ing is  to  be  found  just  to  himself.  I  have  grieved  to  see 
how,  for  the  purpose  of  exalting  Christ's  merits,  the  virtues 
which  he  came  to  form,  and  which  are  the  great  end  of  his 
mission,  have  been  spoken  of  as  of  no  account.  I  have 
grieved  to  see  how  religion,  which  means  the  adoration  and 
imitation  of  the  perfections  of  God,  has  been  made  to  con- 
sist in  speaking  contemptuously  of  tlie  nature  he  has  given 
us,  and  in  dark  and  desponding  views  of  his  administration. 
It  has  seemed  to  me  that  no  foundation  for  a  moral  govern- 
ment has  been  left  by  the  common  doctrine  of  liuman  weak- 
ness ;  for  i-esponsibility  is  diminished  in  the  same  proportion 
as  power,  and  the  solemnity  of  human  life  rests  wlioUy  on 
the  greatness  of  the  capacities  and  means  of  improvement 
now  afforded  us.  It  is  under  these  impressions  that  1  have 
written.  I  have  felt  as  if  the  darkness  thrown  over  human 
nature,  by  a  corrupt  theology,  had  made  the  multitude  of 
men  more  ignorant  of  themselves  than  of  any  other  part  of 
God's  works,  and  I  have  wished  to  do  something  towards 
revealin"-  to  them   their  own  souls.     All  this  I   have   now 

D 

said,  not  to  clear  myself  from  the  charge  of  overstating  the 
truth,  which  is  very  possible,  but  because  I  fear  that  you 
my  dear  Sir,  do  not  sufficiently  feel  how  terrible  has  been, 
and  is,  the  moral  discouragement,  despondence,  debasement, 
produced  by  the  popular  views  of  man's  slate. 

"  As  to  your  other  principal  objection,  tliat  I  have  not  in- 
sisted on  Dinne  injluence  as  I  should  have   done,  I  know 


SriRITUAL    INFLUENCES,  419 

that  I  have  not  given  my  views  at  length,  but  I  hope  that  I 
have  not  in  this  way  led  to  false  conclusions.  I  have  waited 
to  get  clearer  views.  I  believe  in  man's  dependence  on 
God*s  influence,  and  direct  influence,  and  this  is  all  my 
hope  ;  but  man's  dependence  is  that  of  a  vioral,  responsille 
being,  and  must  not  be  confounded  with  that  of  passive  mat- 
ter. It  is  only  by  using  the  power  we  have  that  we  can  gain 
new  aids  from  Heaven,  and  these  aids  will  be  made  effectual 
only  by  our  own  faithful  use  of  them.  The  essence  of 
prayer  is  desire,  and  to  pfay  for  God's  spirit  is  to  desire  and 
choose  virtue,  holiness,  as  our  supreme  good  ;  so  that  in 
the  promise  of  the  Spirit  to  prayer,  the  great  moral  principle 
of  the  Divine  administration  is  adhered  to.  '  To  him  that 
hath  shall  be  given.'  The  common  modes  of  speaking  of 
prayer,  as  if  it  were  mere  asking,  or  did  not  include  moral 

effort,   seem   to    me    very    pernicious The    place 

you  ascribe  to  benevolence  in  Christianity  and  in  the  prog- 
ress of  society  is  the  true  one. 

"  After  a  year's  idleness,  I  am  beginning  to  be  good  for 
something,  and  shall  be  most  grateful  to  God  for  strength  to 
do  a  little  more  for  truth  and  human  nature  before  I  leave 
the  world." 

"  Neicporf,  August  29,  1834.  I  am  truly  sorry  to  find 
you  oppressed  with  such  diflSculties.  I  have  long  since  left 
them  behind  me,  and  they  have  no  more  influence  on  my 
faith  than  a  breath  of  wind  on  a  rock.  I  have  time  now 
only  for  one  or  two  remarks. 

"  That  Jesus  was  the  Christ,  the  Anointed,  the  Commis- 
sioned,—  that  these  titles  belonged  to  him  preeminently  and 
as  to  no  other,  —  is  very  plain.  The  question  is,  whether  his 
coming  was  predicted.  Now  it  seems  to  me  very  plain  that 
a  higher,  spiritual,  universal  religion  is  again  and  again  pre- 
dicted. The  Old  Testament  looks  forward  to  this  contin- 
ually.    In  other  words,  Christianity  was  foretold.     From  the 


420  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

very  nature  of  this  change,  it  required  to  be  introduced  by  a 
divinely  conmnissioned  minister^  by  a  spiritual  licad  and 
leader,  and  this  work  is  again  and  again  ascribed  in  the 
prophecies  to  an  individual.  It  is  true  that  these  proph- 
ecies are  complicated  with  predictions  of  nearer  deliverances 
of  the  Jews,  so  that  they  are  said  by  objectors  to  refer  to 
what  preceded  Christianity.  But  they  certainly  were  not 
ful ruled  previously,  and  if  we  suppose  that  the  great  Deliv- 
erer was  not  only  to  enlighten  the  world,  but  to  bless  the; 
Jews  in  particular,  we  can  understand  why  this  latter  work 
should  be  spoken  of  in  language  drawn  from  the  ancient 
relations  of  the  Jews  to  surrounding  nations.  From  the 
nature  of  the  work  ascribed  to  the  servant  of  the  Lord,  I 
suppose  an  individual  to  be  meant.  Any  other  explanation 
of  the  fifty-second  and  fifty-third  chapters  of  Isaiah  seems 
to  me  forced  and  unnatural.  As  to  the  coming  of  Christ, 
spoken  of  in  the  New  Testament,  nothing  is  plainer  than 
that  the  coming  of  his  power,  injluence,  reign,  was  the  pri- 
mary idea  ;  that  of  a  personal  coming  but  secondary,  or  an 
envelope  of  the  first.  A  personal  coming  without  power  or 
influence  would  have  been  a  disappointment  of  eveiy  hope 
excited  by  the  phrase.  Christ's  coming  and  the  coming  of 
his  kingdom  were  synonymous,  and  he  gave  the  key,  when 
he  said,  '  My  kingdom  is  not  of  the  world,  is  within  you,' 
&c.  These  phrases  were  all  prophetic,  and  the  language 
of  prophecy  was  highly  poetical,  addressed  to  imagination 
and  hope,  enveloping  the  great  thought  under  adjuncts  or 
signs,  indicating  the  eflect  by  the  cause,  and  the  reverse,  &:c. 
That  the  Apostles  were  not  inspired  to  interpret  the  proph- 
ecies is  believed  by  many.  If  your  objections  are  allowed 
to  be  valid  in  their  full  extent,  they  might  prove  the  same  to 
be  true  of  Jesus,  —  a  conclusion  which  almost  all  would  re- 
pel,—  but  they  would  not  invalidate  the  great  proofs  of  his 
mission,  nor  at  all  affect  the  character  of  his  religion.  —  I 
hope  you  can  read,  for  I  cannot  stop  to  correct." 


FUTURE    RETRIBUTION.  421 

*^  Boston,  January  19,  1835.*  My  views  in  regard  to 
future  punisliment  were  not  given  very  distjuoctly,  as  you 
observe,  nor  have  I  inquired  into  the  subject,  perhaps,  as 
thoroughly  as  I  shou'd  have  done.  I  have  rested  in  the  gen- 
eral conclusion,  that  the  Scriptures  intend  only  to  give  us 
strong  impressions  of  tlie  moral  consequences  of  the  char- 
acters we  form  here,  that  their  language  on  the  subject  of 
the  future  life  has  the  boldness  of  the  prophetic  style,  and 
that  we  are  in  danger  of  error  when  we  attempt  to  gather 
from  it  any  precise  views  of  the  condition  of  the  wicked. 
The  mercy  to  be  exercised  hereafter  —  if  such  there  be, 
and  we  hope  tiiere  will  be  —  will  be  revealed  in  due  time, 
and  we  can  see  why  the  annunciation  of  it  now  would  not 
suit  our  present  condition.  Under  these  convictions,  1  have 
not  felt  that  I  was  called  as  a  Christian  minister  to  speak  of 
future  punishment  but  in  the  indefinite  manner  of  which 
you  take  notice.  My  opponents  have  charged  Universalism 
on  me  very  stoutly,  but  I  have  not  thought  it  worth  my 
while  to  set  them  right 

"  In  regard  to  the  Atonement  I  have  thought  much,  and 
hope  one  day  to  give  my  views  to  the  public.  The  great 
question  is,  What  is  the  nature  of  the  connection  between 
the  death  of  Christ  and  human  forgiveness  ?  That  Ortho- 
doxy has  erred  on  this  point  may  be  made  plainer,  I  think, 
than  has  yet  been  done.  That  a  theory  so  wanting  in  Scrip- 
tural proof  should  have  taken  so  wide  and  strong  a  hold  on 
the  Christian  world  is  very  remarkable.  A  thorough  work 
on  this  subject  would  be  the  most  important  contribution 
which  could  be  made  to  theology,  and  the  greatest  benefac- 
tion to  the  Church." 

"  Boston^  January  19,  1835.t     I  thank  you  for  the  vol- 

*  To  the  Rev.  George  Armstrong, 
t  To  the  Rev.  D.  Thorn,  Liverpool 
VOL.    II.  36 


422  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

umes  you  kindly  sent  me  on  '  The  Assurance  of  Faith.'  1 
read  them  with  interest  and  pleasure,  that  is,  with  the  pleas- 
ure which  we  receive  from  seeing  great  subjects  treated 
with  earnestness  and  ability.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  I  dif 
fer  from  you,  but  sometimes  I  am  more  benefited  by  the 
works  of  opponents  than  of  friends.  Perhaps  I  ought  not 
to  speak  of  myself  as  differing  from  you  essentially.  I 
hold  the  doctrine  of  Assurance  as  strongly  as  you.  I  am 
sure  of  God's  love  to  every  human  being ;  but  believing  as 
I  do  in  man's  moral  freedom,  and  regarding  this  as  giving  a 
character  to  the  whole  Divine  administration  towards  him, 
the  government  of  God  cannot  present  itself  under  the 
same  aspects  to  my  mind  as  to  yours.  If  I  may  be  allowed 
one  criticism,  I  would  express  my  sorrow  at  the  tones  of 
asperity  you  have  used  towards  your  opponents.  How  can 
we  help  seeing  true  piety  in  those  who  differ  from  us  ?  And 
how  should  we  rejoice  to  see  it !  I  was  pleased  to  learn 
througli  your  book  something  of  Barclay,  of  whom  I  haa 
never  heard.  I  do  not  wonder  that  as  a  Calvinist  he  should 
have  come  to  the  conclusion  in  which  he  rested,  and  I  am 
still  less  surprised  that  Calvinism  in  your  case  should  have 
issued  in  Universalism.  The  absurdities  of  common  Cal- 
vinism are  so  frightful,  that  the  wonder  is  how  any  can  ad- 
here to  them. 

"  Very  truly,  youi-s." 

"  Neivport.,  September  20,  1835.  I  am  not  surprised  that 
you  think  often  of  your  relations  to  God  and  to  a  future  life. 
The  wonder  is  how  any  human  being  can  live  without  .cr- 
petual  recurrence  to  tlicse  inspiring,  elevating  subjects.  We 
need  them  at  once  to  strengthen  our  virtue  and  cheer  our 
toils  and  sufferings,  to  give  moral  courage  and  unfailing 
hope.  You  say  you  believe  in  God,  in  virtue,  in  immor- 
tality;  may  every  day  give  strength  to  this  faith!  There  is 
no  inheritance  I  desire  so  much  to  leave  you,  and  the  way 


■     PAITH   AND   WORKS.  423 

to  build  up  and  enlarge  your  faith  is  plain.  It  is  not  so 
3iuch  the  way  of  reasoning,  —  though  I  wi^h  you  to  use 
your  reason  on  all  subjects,  —  but  the  way  of  obedience  to 
all  known  duty.  To  fix  in  our  minds  the  conviction  of  any 
great  truth,  we  must  act  upon  it,  be  faithful  to  it.  Reason 
without  an  obedient  spirit  is  a  blind  guide.  He  who  for- 
sakes virtue  gradually  loses  the  perception  of  its  beauty, 
and  begins  to  doubt  its  reaUty,  the  very  worst  form  of  skep- 
ticism. To  those  who  transgress  the  pure  laws  of  God, 
faith  in  him  becomes  little  more  than  a  naaie.  You  are  so 
happy  now  as  to  recognize  the  sublimest  principles.  I  pray 
you  to  be  faithful  to  them.  If  you  are  living  in  one  habit 
which  your  Creator  and  your  conscience  forbid,  renounce, 
resist  it,  as  the  enemy  of  all  that  is  true  as  well  as  of  all 
that  is  holy  within  you.  I  want  you  to  put  such  entire  con- 
fidence in  duty,  that  you  will  follow  it  immediately,  without 
fear,  without  calculation ;  and  with  this  simple  love  of  the 
right  and  the  good,  truth  will  shine  more  and  more  into  your 
understanding,  and  will  raise  you  to  nobler  virtues.  The 
doubts  which  you  express  as  to  Christianity  are  founded  in 
misapprehension.  There  is  no  reason  whatever  for  suppos- 
ing the  religion  to  have  changed,  since  it  rame  from  Christ. 
The  books  of  the  New  Testament  have  coma  down  to  us  as 
they  were  originally  written,  or  the  exceptions  are  so  few  as 
to  deserve  no  notice.  Probably  no  ancient  writings  have 
reached  us  with  so  i^ew  changes.  The  reason  is,  that  the 
copies  of  the  books  of  the  New  Testament  were  so  multi- 
plied and  so  soon  spread  over  all  countries,  —  they  were  so 
soon  translated  into  various  languages,  and  were  quoted  so 
copiously, —  that  we  have  more  means  of  determining  the 

original  text  than  in  the  case  of  any  other  books On 

this  subject  I  cannot  have  any  solicitude  about  you.  The 
more  you  know  of  Christianity,  the  more  you  must  put  faith 
in  it,  unless,  indeed,  you  resist  its  pure  spirit,  —  which  God 
forbid  !  " 


124'  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

"  Boston,  April  4th,  1837.  I  feel  that  among  Liberal 
Christians  the  preaching  has  been  too  vague,  has  wanted 
unity,  has  scattered  attention  too  much.  In  my  own  labors 
there  has  been  more  unity,  perhaps  in  consequence  of  the 
strong  hold  which  one  sublime  idea  has  taken  of  my  mind. 
This  is,  the  greatness  of  the  soul,  its  divinity,  its  union 
with  God, — not  by  passive  dependence,  but  by  spirhual 
likeness,  —  its  receptiveness  of  his  spirit,  its  self-forming 
pov.cr,  its  destination  to  ineffable  glory,  its  immortality 
This  great  view  binds  together  all  other  truth.  I  think  of 
God  as  the  Father  and  Inspirer  of  the  soul,  of  Christ  as  its 
redeemer  and  model,  of  Christianity  as  given  to  enlighten, 
perfect,  and  glorify  it,  of  the  universe  as  its  school,  nutri- 
ment, teacher,  of  all  outward  beauty  as  its  emblem,  of  life 
as  appointed  for  its  discipline,  and  death  for  its  passage  to  a 
higher  being,  of  heaven  as  its  perfection,  of  hell  as  its  ruin. 
I  understand  the  love  which  passeth  knowledge,  when  I  con- 
sider that  God  looks,  as  none  other  can  do,  into  the  soul, 
and  comprehends  its  greatness,  perils,  and  destiny.  Love 
to  God  seems  to  me  to  be  founded  not  on  his  outward  ben- 
efits, but  on  regard  to  him  as  the  Father  of  the  spirit,  present 
to  it,  dwelling  in  it,  calling  it  by  conscience  and  by  his 
providence  to  perfection,  to  himself.  Love  to  man  has  no 
foundation  but  in  the  comprehension  of  his  spiritual  nature 
and  of  his  spiritual  connection  with  God.  To  awaken  men 
to  what  is  within  them,  to  help  them  to  understand  the 
infinite  treasure  of  their  own  souls,  —  such  seems  to  me  the 
object  which  is  ever  to  be  kept  in  sight.  This  is  an  entirtly 
diflcrcnt  thing  from  filling  their  heads  with  vague  notions 
about  human  dignity.  VVliat  we  want  is,  to  awaken  in  them 
a  consciousness  of  their  own  nature,  and  of  the  intimate  re- 
lation which  it  establishes  between  them  and  God,  and  to 
rouse  their  whole  energy  to  the  work  of  their  own  redemp- 
tion and  perfection.  A  sense  of  responsibleness,  thus 
formed,  will  be  at  once  most  rational  and  quickening.     It 


INSPIRATION    AND    INFALLIBLENESS.  425 

is  very  possible  that  I  have  been  too  exclusive  in  my  views, 
and  I  have  not  given  this  account  of  myself  for  your  blind 
imitation.  I  feel,  however,  that  prcaciiing  which  is  to  do 
good  must  have  its  great  idea.  Christianity  undoubtedly  has 
such  an  idea.  This  will  be  revealed  to  different  minds 
under  a  variety  corresponding  to  their  various  peculiarities. 
It  will  not  produce  monotony.  Each  man  will  be  himself, 
and  no  other." 

"■Boston,  May  4,  1838.*  Your  last  letter,  which  I  re- 
ceived in  January,  deserved  an  earlier  answer,  for  it  over- 
flowed with  the  kindest  feeling ;  but,  like  yourself,  I  have 
suffered  for  some  time  from  indisposition,  which  has  taken 
away  my  energies,  so  that  it  is  an  effort  to  put  even  these 
few  lines  on  paper.  I  have  wanted  to  write  you  the  more, 
because  Mr.  Ripley  has  put  into  my  hands  your  long  letter, 
and  this  started  a  thousand  thoughts  which  I  wished  to  com- 
municate. How  much  it  would  gratify  me  to  visit  you,  and 
to  receive  your  views  from  your  own  lips !  I  found  that  I 
differed  from  many  of  the  opinions  you  expressed  to  Mr. 
Ripley.  I  do  not  see  the  necessary  connection  between  in* 
spiration  and  infallibleness.  Inspiration  is  but  one  of  many 
methods  of  teaching,  and  a  method  which  does  not  at  all 
subvert  the  principles  of  our  nature ;  and  this  nature  is  im- 
perfect, erring,  incapable  of  comprehending  any  truth  thor- 
oughly, unable  to  comprehend  moral  truth  beyond  its  own 
degree  of  purity,  and  compelled,  if  I  may  so  say,  by  the 
la\v  of  mental  association,  to  blend  its  errors  with  the  better 
views  it  has  attained.  Man  may  learn  much  under  God's 
ordinary  and  extraordinaiy  modes  of  instruction ;  but  the 
histoiy  of  the  Apostles  under  Christ's  teaching  shows  us, 
that  under  the  happiest  auspices,  under  miraculous  aids,  man 
still  conforms  to  the  laws  of  his  present  infant  stage  of  be- 

•  To  J.  Blanco  White. 
36* 


426  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

ing.  The  notion  has  been,  that  the  infallibleness  of  the 
Apostles  was  necessary  in  order  to  the  protection  of  their 
converts  from  error.  But  this  protection  is  an  impossible 
thing,  and  cannot  therefore  be  the  end  of  Divine  arrange- 
ment. No  teacher  can  secure  his  pupils  from  error,  can 
impart  his  mind  jt^rfeclly  to  others.  Our  reception  of  the 
thoughts  of  a  higher  mind  must  be  proportioned  to  our  ca- 
pacity, our  preconceptions,  our  moral  progress.  The  very 
circumstance,  that  men  are  taught  by  words,  makes  a  mix- 
ture of  error  necessary ;  for  diflercnt  ideas  are  more  or  less 
associated  with  words  in  different  minds.  How  little  did 
Christ's  disciples  understand  him  whilst  he  was  with  them  ! 
And  were  the  Apostles  able  to  protect  their  converts  from 
error  ?  How  immediately  was  Christianity  obscured  by  the 
Jewish  and  heathen  notions  of  its  first  professors  !  Undoubt- 
edly, inspiration,  as  well  as  outward  means,  may  communi- 
cate most  precious  light;  but  are  we  obliged  to  think  the 
light  unmixed  with  darkness  ?  I  apprehend  much  error  has 
arisen  from  heathen  notions  of  inspiration,  as  if  it  trans- 
ported a  man  beyond  himself,  suspended  his  faculties,  6;c. 
This  is  not  only  at  war  with  reason,  but  contradicted  by  the 
New  Testament.  So  the  value  of  inspiration  to  the  recip- 
ient has  been  exaggerated,  as  if  it  made  him  more  than 
mortal.  To  me,  it  seems  a  higher  act  to  arrive  at  a  great 
truth  through  the  development  of  our  own  rational  and  moral 
nature,  than  to  be  taught  this  truth  authoritatively  by  another. 
These  arc  very  hasty  suggestions,  but  I  think  they  will  meet 
some  of  your  difficulties.  As  to  your  objection,  that  men 
cannot  be  commanded  to  believe  Christianity,  on  the  ground 
of  external  evidence,  I  reply  that  such  evidence  aJo7ie  is  not 
.he  ground  on  which  belief  should  be  founded.  I  will  only 
add,  that  you  seem  to  make  faith  too  much  an  intellectual 
exercise,  an  assent  to  propositions.  I  regard  it  much  more 
as  a  spiritual  aspiration,  a  thirst  for  perfection,  a  trust  in 
Christ  as  commissioned  by  God  to  guide  us  to  perfection,  to 


DIFFICULT     SUBJECTS.  427 

inward,  moral,  celestial,  and  eternal  life.  I  cnn  add  no  more  : 
let  me  only  ask,  if  there  is  not  an  important  dificrence  of 
opinion  between  the  letter  to  Mr.  Ripley,  and  'The  Law  of 
Libel  reconsidered.'  Will  you  allow  me  to  say,  that  I  was 
Gained  by  the  thought,  that  you  might  lose  some  of  the  sup- 
oorts  and  strength  which  we  especially  need  as  we  approach 
zhe  end  of  life.  You  will  say,  that  we  must  think  of  Lrulh 
alone.  But  are  we  not  to  see  one  impress  of  truth  on  doc- 
trines, in  their  ada])tation  to  the  highest  w  ants  of  our  na- 
ture .?  I  write  in  great  haste,  and  from  an  impulse  which  I 
know  you  will  appreciate.  It  will  give  me  great  pleasure  to 
hear  that  you  are  gaining  strength,  and  able  still  to  employ 
your  powers  for  your  own  enjoyment  and  the  good  of 
your  fellow-beings.  —  On  looking  over  my  letter,  I  feel  how 
imperfect  it  is ;  but  such  is  my  confidence  in  you,  that  I 
send  it,  for  I  know  not  when  I  can  write  another. 

"  Very  respectfully,  your  sincere  friend." 

'■'■Boston,  February  11, 1839.*  I  have  delayed  answering 
your  letter,  simply  because  I  have  felt  that  it  demanded  a 
good  deal  of  thought,  and  it  so  happens  that  my  capacity  of 
thought  is  so  taxed  by  subjects  which  ci'owd  on  me  every 
day,  that  I  seldom  find  time  for  those  which  I  put  oif  to  a 
more  convenient  season.  You  remember  the  story  told  of 
Simonides,  who  was  to  give  his  idea  of  God  at  a  certain  time. 
When  the  day  came,  he  desired  a  longer  season  for  medi- 
tation, and  then  a  still  longer  one,  and  the  more  he  thought, 
the  more  he  felt  the  need  of  eternity  to  comprehend  the 
Eternal.  Your  questions  would  bring  with  tliem  the  same 
consciousness,  were  I  to  undertake  to  give  them  a  foriral 
answer.  Happily,  I  am  stirred  up  by  an  opportunity  to 
write  without  any  efibrt  at  regular  arrangement  of  my  ideas. 
I  am  afraid  nothing  else  would  secure  to  yon  an  answer,  if, 
indeed,  the  answer  should  be  worth  your  getting. 

•  To  Rev.  George  F.  Simmons. 


428  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

"You  wish  to  know  what  manifestations  of  God  bring  him 
nearest  to  us,  by  what  views  of  him  a  profound,  fervent  devo- 
tion to  liim  may  be  awakened  and  cherished.  It  seems  to 
nic  very  plain,  that  nature,  which  you  look  to  witli  so  much 
hope,  is  not  and  cannot  be  the  primary  or  cliief  source  of 
our  ideas  of  God,  or  the  great  means  of  our  communication 
■with  him.  Nature,  indeed,  sliows  design ;  but  the  idea  of 
design  we  learn  wholly  from  our  own  souls.  These  are  our 
gieat  teachers  of  God.  God  is  a  spirit,  and  his  spiritual 
offspring  carry  the  primary  revelation  of  him  in  their  own 
nature.  His  attributes  are  first  made  known  to  us  by  the 
shadows  or  emanations  of  them  in  ourselves.  The  Godlike 
within  is  the  primary  revelation  of  God.  Outward  nature 
cannot,  of  itself,  teach  him,  for  it  does  not  manifest  to  us 
the  Ultimate,  or  the  End,  of  the  Creator.  It  is  a  vast  ap- 
paratus of  means.  But  the  final,  supreme  good  it  does 
not  teach,  and  yet  it  is  the  end  of  the  Creator  which  deter- 
mines his  character  and  manifests  his  glory. 

"  It  is  a  fact,  too,  that  science  has  not  made  nature  as  ex- 
pressive of  God  in  the  first  instance,  or  to  the  beginner  in 
religion,  as  it  was  in  earlier  times.  Science  reveals  a  rigid, 
immutable  order  ;  and  this  to  common  minds  looks  much 
like  self-subsistence,  and  does  not  manifest  intelligence, 
which  is  full  of  life,  variety,  and  progressive  operation. 
Men  in  the  days  of  their  ignorance  saw  an  immediate  Di- 
vinity accomplishing  an  immediate  purpose,  or  expressing 
an  immediate  feeling,  in  every  sudden,  striking  change  of 
nature, —  in  a  storm,  the  flight  of  a  bird,  &c.,  —  and  nature 
thus  interpreted  became  the  sign  of  a  present,  deeply  inter- 
ested Deity.  Science  undoubtedly  brings  vast  aids,  but  to 
prepared  minds,  to  those  who  have  begun  in  another  school. 
The  greatest  aid  it  yields  consists  in  the  revelation  it  uk'/.cs 
of  the  Infinite.  It  aids  us  not  so  much  by  showing  us  ma)ks 
of  design  in  this  or  that  particular  thing  as  by  showing  the 
Infinite  in   the    finite.     In   this  I    mean   nothing   mystical 


KEVELATIONS    OF    GOu.  429 

God  is  tlie  Infinite  Spirit.  We  know  hinn  only  when  we  see 
and  revere  liim  as  such.  Nothiiiir  deckircs  him,  but  what  is 
a  sign,  shadow,  expression,  of  liis  infinity.  Science  does 
tnis  office  when  it  unfolds  to  us  the  unity  of  the  universe, 
wliich  thus  becomes  the  sign,  efllux,  of  one  unbounded  in- 
tcHigence,  —  when  it  reveals  to  us  in  every  work  of  nature 
infinite  connections,  the  influences  of  all-pervading  laws,  — 
when  it  shows  us  in  each  thing  unfathomable,  unsearchable 
depths,  to  which  our  intelligence  is  altogether  unequal. 
Thus  nature  explored  by  science  is  a  witness  of  the  Infinite. 
It  is  also  a  witness  to  the  same  truth  by  its  beauty  ;  for  what 
is  so  undefined,  mysterious,  as  beauty  .'' 

"  Still,  it  is  not  by  nature  that  we  first  approach  God,  nor 
docs  this  constitute  our  great  tie  to  him.  I  am  not  unjust  to 
it,  for  I  live  in  and  by  its  light.  But  without  a  higher  revela- 
tion than  itself,  it  would  be  dark  and  voiceless.  We  must 
look  for  God  in  our  own  souls.  From  the  very  nature  of 
spirit,  it  must  be  the  chief  expression  of  the  spiritual  Father. 
And  this  is  not  all.  It  is  the  prerogative  of  the  soul  to  dis- 
cern the  ultimate,  the  supreme  good,  —  that  for  which  man 
and  all  things  arc  made ;  and  it  is  only  by  knowledge  of 
the  ultimate  that  we  can  truly  know  God.  This  revelation 
is  made  by  the  moral  principle  within  us.  It  is  the  glory  of 
this  principle,  that  it  perceives  that  which  is  good  in  itself, 
immutably  good,  to  which  every  thing  else  is  to  be  sac- 
rificed. It  discerns  the  everlasting  law  to  which  the  whole 
spiritual  world  is  subjected,  and  which  is  the  essence  and  law 
of  God  himself.  The  moral  principle  brings  God  nigh  to  us 
as  no  other  can.  Its  authority  becomes  representative  to  us 
of  a  higher  authority.  It  speaks  in  a  higher  name  than  its 
own.  It  looks  up  to  a  judge  above  itself.  It  teaches  us, 
when  we  do  wrong,  that  a  purer  eye  than  our  own  sees  us. 
Still  more,  it  wants  such  a  being  as  God  to  strengthen  it  in 
its  weakness,  to  aid  it  in  realizing  its  ideas  of  perfection, 
and  to  be  the  object  of  its  love  and  reverence. 


430  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

"  The  moral  nature  is  man's  gi-eat  tie  to  the  Divinity. 
If  so,  there  is  but  one  mode  of  approacli  to  God.  It  is 
by  faithfulness  1o  the  inward,  everlasting  law.  All  other 
means  are  vaii;.  '  We  may  study  till  our  eyes  are  blind  and 
our  brains  dizzy,  but  we  shall  not  take  a  step  towards  God 
till  we  begin  to  resist  the  evil  within  us,  and  to  make  the 
Divine  will  our  supreme  law.  The  pure  in  heart  see  God. 
Here  is  the  true  way  to  God.  We  prefer  speculation  and 
outward  means.  But  self-denial,  the  path  rough  at  first,  but 
soon  flowery,  alone  guides  to  him.  In  proportion  as  we 
obey  and  feel  the  reality  of  virtue,  we  feel  the  reality  of  its 
source.  We  feel  that  it  comes  from  above.  We  identify  it 
with  God.  A  conviction  springs  up  that  he  is  loorking  with- 
in us.  Our  holy  aspirations  and  efforts  arc  seen  by  a  kind 
of  intuition  to  be  his  motions  in  us.  We  feel  our  alliance 
with  him  and  understand  him  by  sympathy.  In  proportion 
as  we  conquer  evil  within  us,  our  idea  of  perfection  rises, 
and  we  thirst  more  for  his  aid  to  ascend  to  it,  and  this  thirst 
becomes  spontaneous,  free,  fervent  prayer.  In  proportion 
as  we  improve,  we  gain  a  practical  proof  of  his  infinite  in- 
terest in  us,  we  feel  that  he  has  given  us  his  best  gift,  and 
faith  founded  oa  experience  grows  more  and  more  im- 
movable. 

"  This  purification  of  the  heart  also  prepares  us  to  turn 
all  nature  to  account.  It  is  our  sensuality  which  makes 
nature  so  profitless  to  us  in  religion.  To  the  man  of  the 
senses,  nature  is  something  substantial,  the  only  reality.  It 
subsists  to  him  by  its  own  power.  As  the  senses  lose  their 
power  over  us,  nature  loses  its  rigid  self-subsistence.  The 
spirit  within  it,  and  of  which  it  is  the  veil  and  shadow,  shines 
out.  We  look  on  it  as  a  phenomenon,  and  pierce  beneath 
the  surface  to  the  deep,  infinite  power  of  which  it  is  the 
mere  sign  and  instrument.  This  is  a  mysterious  change, 
which  only  experience  can  comprehend.  Siill  more,  the 
principle  of  Love,  that  unbounded  spirit  which  seeks  union 


FUNCTION    OF    THE    IJUGINATION.  431 

with  all  things,  and  which  is  the  end  of  all  moral  effort, 
opens  to  us  the  iiifmihj,  tiie  unihi,  and  \hoJbeauty  of  the 
universe  as  science  cannot,  and  makes  it  radiant  with  the 
Divinity. 

"  But  I  have  said  enough.  I  have  much,  much  to  add  ; 
but  you  get  my  ideas  of  access  to  God,  and  you  will  easily 
see  how  Christ  is  the  way  to  God,  as  he  awakens  the  moral 
energies  of  the  soul,  by  which  it  is  borne  upward  to  the 
Father,  and  as  he  is  the  brightest  spiritual  manifestation 
of  the  Father." 

"  Boston,  November  20, 1839.*    I  cannot  agree  with  every 
part  of  your  letter.     You  seem  to  me  to  make  religion  too 
exclusively  a  product  of  the  reason,  and  carry  your  jealousy 
of  the  imagination  too   far,  though  such  jealousy  is   most 
natural  in  one  bred  to  Catholicism.     If  imagination  had  no 
office  but  to  give  material  forms  to  God  and  heaven,  I  should 
agree   with  you  ;  but  is  it  not  the  function  of  this  glorious 
faculty  to  see  in  the  universe  a  type  of  the  Divinity,  in  the  sun 
a  shadow  of  his  glory,  in  the  beautiful,  sublime,  and  awful 
forms  of  nature  the  signs  of  spiritual  beauty  and  power  }    Is 
not  the   imagination  the  principle  which  tends  to  the  Ideal, 
which  rises  above  the  finite  and  existent,  which  conceives 
of  the  Perfect,  of  what  eye  hath  not  seen  or  ear  heard  .=>     I 
suppose   we  differ   chiefly  in  words.     I   consider   religion, 
however,  as  founded  in  the  joint  operation  of  all  our  powers, 
as  revealed   by  the  reason,  the  imagination,  and  the  moral 
sentiments.     I  think,  too,  you    speak  too  disparagingly  of 
historical  Christianity,  though  here,  also,  I   may  misappre- 
hend you.     To  me  the  history  of  Christianity  in  the  Gospels 
is  inestimable.     The  life,  spirit,  works,  and   character   of 
Jesus  Christ  are  to  me  the  brightest  revelations  of  his  truth. 
I  know  no   histories   to   be   compared  with  the  Gospels  in 

•   To  J.  Blanco  White. 


432  RtLIGlOiN    AND    PUILOSOl'HY, 

marks  of  truth,  in  pregnancy  of  meaning,  in  quickening 
power.  I  attach  great  importance  to  the  miracles.  They 
have  a  vital  union  with  the  religion,  are  full  of  it,  and  mar- 
vellously adapted  to  it.  They  are  not  anomalous,  arbitrary 
events.  I  liavc  no  faith  in  abstract,  insulated,  purposeless 
miracles,  which,  indeed,  are  morally  impossible;  but  the 
miracles  of  Christ  belong  to  him,  complete  the  manifestation 
of  him,  are  in  harmony  with  his  truth,  and  at  once  give  to 
it,  and  receive  from  it,  confirmation.  I  should  pay  little 
heed  to  a  narrative,  from  ever  so  many  hands,  of  the  resur- 
rection of  a  low-minded  man,  who  had  died  for  no  end,  and 
had  risen,  according  to  the  story,  to  lead  as  low  a  life  as  be- 
fore. But  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  related  as  it  is  to  his 
character  and  religion,  taught  and  sealed  with  blood  by  the 
grand  reformers  of  the  race,  and  recorded  as  it  is  in  the  Gos- 
pels, is  a  fact  which  comes  to  me  with  a  certainty  which  I 
find  in  few  ancient  histories.  The  evidence  of  such  mira- 
cles as  accompanied  Christianity  seems  to  me  precisely 
suited  to  the  moral  wants  of  men  in  present  and  past  times, 
that  is,  to  a  stage  where  the  moral  development  is  sufficient 
to  discern  more  or  less  of  divinity  in  Christian  truth,  but  not 
sufficient  to  produce  full,  earnest  faith.  I  need  miracles 
less  now  than  formerly.  But  could  I  have  got  where  I 
am,  had  not  miracles  entered  into  the  past  history  of  the 
world  .' 

"  Another  topic  about  which  I  may  have  misapprehended 
you  is  supernatural  ism.  I  doubt  if  I  know  what  you  mean 
by  it ;  but  I  have  not  room  to  write  about  it.  I  will  only 
say,  that  I  have  no  sympathy  with  those  who  disparage  the 
natural.  Nature,  in  its  broad  sense,  as  meaning  the  created 
universe,  with  its  order  and  law,  becomes  more  and  more 
sacred,  divine,  in  my  sight.  But  a  letter  would  not  hold 
what  I  might  say  here.  Your  true  meaning  I  should  like 
to  get." 


MORAL   EVIL.  433 

"  Boston^  November  29,  1839.*  The  personification  of 
moral  evil  seems  to  mc  a  more  serious  matter  than  to  you ; 
for  the  result  is,  that  people  come  to  fear  the  pt!rson  and  his 
poroer  more  than  moral  evil  itself;  and  whenever  the  con- 
ception of  him  becomes  more  vivid,  the  moral  perceptions 
are  almost  lost  in  selfish  dread.  I  sometimes  think  that  the 
Devil  has  been  a  more  formidable  object  to  the  English  race 
than  to  the  Continental  Christians.  Luther  called  him  caitiff, 
threw  an  inkstand  at  him,  and  tells  us  that  he  found  no  way 
of  driving  him  off  so  effectual  as  laughing  at  him.  Satan 
was  evidently  a  poor  creature  in  Luther's  notion.  He  could 
not  stand  a  sneer.  Did  Milton  make  him  more  terrible  ?  I 
know  nothing  of  the  history  of  this  conception  in  later 
times.  I  meet  no  explanation  of  the  references  to  Satan 
in  our  Saviour's  history  which  satisfies  me.  The  whole  sub- 
ject is  a  perplexing  one,  and,  as  it  does  not  enter  into  the 
essence  of  Christianity,  I  have  for  a  long  time  ceased  to 
think  about  it 

"  The  part  of  your  discourse  which  gave  me  the  sincerest 
delight,  and  for  which  I  would  especially  thank  you,  is  that 
in  which  you  protest  against  the  doctrine  of  philosophical 
necessity.  Nothing  for  a  long  time  has  given  me  so  much 
pleasure.  I  have  felt  that  that  doctrine,  with  its  natural  con- 
nections, was  a  millstone  round  the  neck  of  Unitarianism  in 
England.  I  know  no  one  who  has  so  clearly  and  strongly 
pointed  out  as  yourself  its  inconsistency  whh  moral  senti- 
ments in  God,  and  with  the  exercise  of  moral  sentiments 
towards  him  by  his  creatures.  I  have  always  lamented  that 
Dr.  Priestley's  authority  had  fastened  this  doctrine  on  his 
followers. 

" has  spoken  of  me  as  using  patronizing  language 

towards  Dr.  Priestley.  I  must  be  strangely  wanting  in  hu- 
mility, if  I  did  not  feel  my  great  inferiority  to  that  extraordi- 

*  To  the  Rev.  James  Martineau. 
VOL.    II.  37 


434  KELIGJON    A.ND    PHILOSOPHY. 

nary  man,  or  if  I  could  think  of  liim  as  needing  my  patron 
age.  The  truth  is,  that  I  could  never  speak  of  liim  without 
qualification,  in  consequence  of  my  deep  conviction  of  injury 
done  to  tlic  cause  of  truth  by  his  speculations  on  the  moral 
nature  of  man,  reaching,  as  they  must  do,  to  the  moral  na- 
ture of  God." 

"  Boston,  November  2,  1840.  If  ever  a  being  under- 
stood himself,  it  was  Jesus  Christ.  He  was  entirely  free 
from  the  self-partiality  by  which  men  are  so  often  blinded 
to  their  destiny.  His  profound  humility  must  have  guarded 
him  from  all  extravagance  of  conception  and  hope.  His 
clear,  bright  perceptions  of  the  Divinity  and  of  human  duty 
and  perfection  were  signs  of  consummate  wisdom,  of  an 
unclouded  reason,  of  a  sound,  healthful  mind.  He  was 
nothing  of  an  enthusiast  in  the  common  sense  of  the  word, 
no  dreamer.  There  was  no  passion  in  his  views  of  life,  of 
the  evils  he  was  to  overcome,  of  the  good  he  was  to  accom- 
plish. He  was  calm,  authoritative,  self-possessed,  singularly 
just  in  his  appreciation  of  men  and  things,  and  had  always 
the  tone  of  a  man  dealing  with  realities.  1  cannot  explain 
his  sublime  yet  calm  consciousness  of  his  end  and  destiny, 
—  the  wonderful  grandeur,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  sim- 
plicity and  naturalness  with  which  he  expressed  it,  —  the  se- 
rene assurance  with  which  he  looked  forward  to  his  death, 
and  to  the  triumph  of  his  cause  in  future  ages,  under  the 
himible  ministry  of  his  disciples,  —  by  any  thing  but  the 
admission  of  the  truth  of  his  convictions. 

"  This  conception  of  the  Christ  was  his  own,  —  so  remote 
from  that  of  liis  nation,  that  it  could  not  have  been  borrowed. 
Undoubtedly,  there  were  Jews  who  looked  forward  to  a 
moral  change  under  the  Messiah  ;  but  he  was  to  extend 
religion  under  the  form  of  Judaism,  to  spread  the  law  of 
Moses,  and  Judea  was  to  sit  on  the  throne  of  the  world. 
The  idea  of  a  purely  sj)iritual  reign,  the  chief  ministers  of 


PREDICTIONS    OF    CHRIST.  435 

which  vere  to  be  the  last  and  least,  and  servants  of  all  men, 

—  to  be  persecuted,  martyred,  —  was,  as  I  conceive,  al- 
together his  own,  and  wholly  inexplicable  by  outward  influ- 
ences. Above  all,  the  idea,  that  lliis  kingdom  was  to  rise  on 
the  ruins  of  Judea  and  all  Jewish  hope,  shows  the  entire 
separation  of  Christ's  mind  from  all  around  him.  It  is  very 
remarkable,  that,  in  his  prediction  of  the  destruction  of  Jeru- 
salem, he  introduces  no  prophecy  of  its  restoration,  and  of 
the  future  glory  of  the  Jewish  people.  Nothing  can  show 
more  clearly  that  Christ  did  not  derive  his  idea  from  the 
prophets,  for  the  grand  idea  of  the  prophets  is  the  glory  of 
Zion.  Her  desolations  and  humiliations,  however  they 
opened  on  the  ancient  seers,  always  had  an  end,  and  the 
prophets  seemed  unable  to  find  full  utterance  for  the  glory 
that  was  to  follow.  How  entirely  Jesus  rose  above  every 
thing  local  and  temporary !  '  Ye  shall  neither  in  this  moun- 
tain nor  at  Jerusalem  worship  the  Father.'  How  anxious 
was  he  to  comprehend  the  Samaritan  and  heathen  in  his 
charity  ! 

"  As  to  the  prophecies,  I  acknowledge  that  an  obscurity 
hangs  over  the  application  of  many  to  Christ,  which  are 
cited  as  fulfilled  in  him.  I  rest  on  a  few  general  views. 
There  are  clear  predictions  in  the  Old  Testament  of  the  re- 
coveiy  of  the  world  to  God's  worship,  and  intimations  of  a 
distinguished  individual  by  whom  the  work  was  to  be  done, 

—  and,  indeed,  the  last  was  implied  in  the  first,  for  great 
revolutions  imply  a  leader.  By  these  general  views  I  ex- 
plain Christ's  references  to  the  prophecies. 

"  As  to  his  biographers,  they  speak  for  themselves.  Nev- 
er were  more  simple  and  honest  ones.  They  show  us  t.idt 
none  in  connection  with  Christ  could  give  any  aid  to  his 
conception,  for  they  do  not  receive  it.  If  in  any  respect 
they  have  unconsciously  misrepresented  him,  it  must  have 
been  by  letting  down  his  idea,  by  seizing  on  apparent  Jew- 
ish views  ;  for  with  such  they  must  have  sympathized  most 


436  RKLIGION   A.XD   PHlLObUPHY. 

readily.  They  have  not  exaggerated  his  grand  peculiarity 
How  can  we  read  them,  and  not  see  that  they  give  us  a  real 
being  ?  and  if  so,  how  can  we  escape  his  miracles  ?  and 
these  give  us  additional  assurance  of  the  justness  of  Christ's 
conviction." 

'■  Boston^  November  8,  1840.  I  did  not  insist  in  my 
lasl  ou  the  correspondence  of  the  event  with  Christ's  pro- 
phetic conviction  of  his  having  come  to  accomplish  the 
great  moral  revolution  which  had  been  foretold.  How  has 
his  word  been  fulfilled,  and  fulfilled  under  circumstances 
the  most  unpropitious !  The  poor  son  of  the  Nazarene 
carpenter,  with  an  imagination  so  exalted  as  to  clothe  him 
with  an  unreal,  miraculous  glory,  was  not  the  man  to  con- 
flict successfully  with  the  array  of  the  strongest  human  pas- 
sion, prejudice,  pride,  interests,  —  with  the  whole  strength  of 
the  civil  and  priestly  powers,  —  with  all  the  institutions  of 
society.  In  the  Gospels  we  read  of  the  obstacles  he  had  to 
encounter  in  the  minds  of  his  chosen  companions,  and  the 
internal  evidence  of  this  part  of  the  records  is  very  strong. 
What  could  such  men  accomplish  after  their  Master's  death, 
amidst  the  deep  agony  of  their  disappointment,  if  he  did  not 
indeed  rise  again,  —  if  the  dark  mystery  of  his  death  was 
unrevealed, —  if  no  succour,  no  higher  illumination,  were 
afforded  them  from  God  ?  According  to  your  view,  Chris- 
tianity stands  in  the  history  of  the  race  as  a  fact  wholly  un- 
explained and  inexplicable  ;  and  the  difficulty  arising  from 
the  obscurity  of  the  old  prophecies  seems  as  the  dust  of  the 
balance  in  comparison. 

"  The  Gospels  are  to  me  their  own  evidence.  They  are 
simple  records  of  a  being  who  could  not  have  been  in- 
vented, and  the  miraculous  and  more  common  parts  of  his 
life  so  hang  together,  are  so  permeated  by  the  same  spirit, 
are  so  plainly  outgoings  of  one  and  the  same  man,  that  I 
see  not  how  we  can  admit  one  without  the  other.     I  liave  no 


THE    SHEKINAH.  43t 

difficulty  in  receiving  the  miracles,  for  they  belong  to  the 
man,  they  are  in  harmony  with  a  character  \jiiiich  stands  so 
separate  from  our  common  humanity,  they  form  a  beautiful 
whole.  Tliat  there  arc  difficulties  I  feel,  and  I  am  in  the 
liabit  of  letting  them  pass;  and  in  so  doing,  my  idea  of 
Christianity  is  not  at  all  touched  or  obscured.  There  is  an 
amount  of  evidence  which  satisfies  me  that  the  solutioi.  jf 
the  difficulty  will  come  sooner  or  later." 

"  May  8,  1841.*  You  speak  generally  of  Christ  as  the 
Shekinah,  but  sometimes  of  the  Shekinah  as  the  shadow  of 
Christ.  He  is  the  substance.  In  him  '  the  symbol  was 
substantiated.'  This  doctrine  meets  my  views  precisely. 
The  Shekinah  was  a  glorious  type,  symbol,  of  Christ.  Both 
were  manifestations  of  God  ;  the  former  material  or  sensi- 
ble, the  latter  spiritual.  The  former  truly  preshadowed  the 
latter.  But  the  shadow  and  substance  are  not  the  same ; 
and  yet  the  identity  of  Christ  and  the  Shekinah  seems  to  be 
your  doctrine." 

'■'■  Neicport,  R.  I.,  .Tuly  12,  1841. f  I  received,  a  day  or 
two  ago,  your  letter,  and  hasten  to  reply  to  it.  The  subject 
is  of  great  interest,  and  I  am  truly  gratified  to  find  you  pur- 
suing it  with  s6  single  a  love  of  truth.  I  read  but  little  of 
the  theology  of  the  day,  on  account  of  the  plain  proof  given 
by  writers  that  they  are  communicating  other  men's  thoughts, 
not  their  own.  Where  I  meet  the  signs  of  an  honest  seek- 
ing for  truth,  my  interest  is  awakened,  no  matter  whether 
the  author  arrives  at  the  same  results  with  myself  or  not. 

"  I  wish  to  understand  precisely  your  view  of  the  She- 
kinah, and  of  the  relation  borne  to  it  by  Jesus  Christ.  I 
suppose  1  receive  your  meaning,  when  you  speak  of  the 
Shekinah  as  the  symbol,  representative,  embodiment,  of  Je- 

*  Tf  Professor  George  Bush.  t  Ibid. 

37* 


438  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHV. 

hovah.  But  when  you  speak  of  the  symbol  as  substantiated 
in  Jesus  Ch.-ist,  or  in  luiman  flesh,  and  of  this  gloiy  of  God 
dwelling  in  him,  do  you  intend  that  the  very  light,  'un- 
wrapped splendor,'  '  enshrined  glory,'  on  which  the  eyes  of 
the  Israelites  rested,  dwelt  beneath  the  veil  of  his  flesh, — 
that  lliis  was  disclosed  on  the  mount  of  transfiguration? 
Your  language  seems  to  imply  that  the  very  visible  light 
which  moved  through  the  wilderness  was  enshrined  in  the 
body  of  Christ.     Is  this  your  meaning  ? 

"  I  regard  Jesus  as  the  Shekinah  to  us ;  as  a  manifestation, 
embodiment,  of  God  to  us,  but  in  a  far  higher  sense  than 
the  old  Shekinah  ;  for  he  was  not  merely  a  symbol  of  the 
Divine  perfections,  but  God's  wisdom,  love,  purity,  dwelt 
really  in  him.  The  fulness  of  the  Godhead  was  subslari' 
t'wllij  in  him.  His  will  corresponded  precisely  to  the  Di- 
vine.    Jesus  was   the   Shekinah  in  an  unspeakably  higher 

sense  than  the  splendor  in  the  cloud There  has 

often  been  an  attempt  to  identify  Christ  with  the  Jehovah- 
Angel,  by  those  who  have  considered  the  latter  as  a  person, 
a  spiritual  being.  But  I  cannot  coincide  with  this.  Indeed, 
the  objection  seems  insuperable.  If  Jesus  were  indeed  the 
Angel  of  Jehovah,  by  whom  the  Jewish  dispensation  was 
given  and  administered,  how  distinctly  must  this  have  been 
insisted  upon  by  the  Apostles  in  their  discussions  with  the 
Jews !  How  bright,  prominent,  would  be  this  relation  of 
Jesus  to  the  ancient  people  of  God !  What  a  place  would 
this  topic  hold  in  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews !  Instead  of 
this,  that  Epistle  begins  with  the  words,  — '  God,  who  at 
sundry  times  and  in  divers  manners  spake  in  time  past  unto 
the  fathers  by  the  prophets,  hath  in  these  last  days  spoken 
inito  us  by  his  Son.'  It  seems  impossible,  if  Jesus  were  the 
intelligent,  conscious  spirit  who  presided  over  the  Hebrew 
nation,  that  wc  should  be  left  to  gath.er  this  from  a  few  doubt- 
ful intimations.     It  would  shine  in  a  blaze  of  light. 

"  1  read  with  much  interest  your  solution  of  the  problem 


THE    LOGOS.  439 

of  'the  word'  in  the  beginning  of  John.  At  this  point  I 
ask  light,  for  no  solutions  satisfy  me.  I  incjinc,  myself,  to 
the  belief  that  '  the  word  '  should  be  taken  in  the  sense  in 
which  tliis  term  is  habitually  used  in  the  New  Testament. 
The  '  Logos'  there  means  '  the  doctrine'  or  Christian  truth  ; 
for  example,  '  The  seed  is  the  word,'  '  The  word  shall 
judge  him  at  the  last  day,'  &ic.,  &c.  It  seems  natural  that 
the  Apostle,  in  the  introduction  to  his  Gospel,  should  speak 
the  praise  of  '  the  Gospel,'  the  everlasting  word  of  God. 
Might  he  not  intend  to  teach  that  the  truth  brought  by- 
Christ  was  not  of  yesterday,  nor  an  arbitrary  or  temporary 
doctrine,  but  divine,  immutable,  everlasting  truth,  —  that  '  it 
was  in  the  beginning'?  He  naturally  identified  this  with  the 
wisdom  spoken  of  in  Proverbs  viii.  22  -  30.  Considering 
him  as  personifying  this  truth,  is  his  language  at  all  liard, 
forced,  —  'This  was  in  the  beginning  with  God.  By  it  all 
things  were  made  '  }  It  contains  the  principles,  the  great 
ideas,  according  to  and  by  which  the  universe  was  formed. 
'  It  was  God.'  It  is  the  very  mind  of  God  laid  open,- —  the 
eternal  truth  xoliicli  constitutes  the  Divine  Person.  '  In  it 
was  life,'  spiritual,  immortal  life.  This  is  the  grand  idea 
of  the  Christian  truth,  and  the  grand  purpose  of  the  crea- 
tion. Man  was  made  to  live  the  life  of  God  now  and  for 
ever.  This  idea  is  the 'light  of  men,'  —  the  illumination 
of  the  soul.  In  the  thickest  darkness  some  faint  ray  of  it 
shines  forth.  Christ  has  come  '  to  bring  it  to  light.'  The  . 
eternal  life  which  was  with  the  Father,  which  God  promised 
before  the  world  began,  was  made  manifest  by  the  appear- 
ing of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  who  hath  abol- 
ished death,  and  '  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light.' 
Thus  divine,  eternal  truth  was  made  flesh,  or  became  a 
human  being,  or  was  embodied  in  Christ.  '  I  am  the  truth, 
the  life.' 

"  I  will   stop,  as  my  single  object  is,  not  to  expound  or 
defend,  but   simply  to   give    some    notion   of    an    explana- 


440  KELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

tion  which  often  occurs  to  me  as  most  probable.  It  retains 
the  common,  the  New  Testament  sense  of  '  the  word.'  It 
seems  to  mo  most  natural  and  fit  as  an  introduction  to  the 
Gospel,  and  I  think  there  is  less  forcing  of  the  Apostle's 
words  than  in  the  usual  interpretations;  still,  I  do  not  say- 
that  it  wholly  satisfies  me. 

"  Your  hope  of  reconciling  bodies  of  Christians  who  are 
thought  to  differ  essentially  is  most  gratifying  to  me.  On 
this  point  I  can  say  nothing  to  the  public.  A  man  belong- 
ing to  a  proscribed  minority  is  always  suspected,  when  he 
pleads  for  union  and  toleration.  My  own  lieart  testifies  to 
me,  that  I  desire  this  union  for  the  sake  of  the  Christian 
cause,  not  for  my  own  sake.  Man's  judgincnt  of  me  is  of 
less  and  less  importance,  as  I  approach  the  hour  when  I 
must  stand  before  another  judgment-seat.  My  relation  to 
Jesus  Christ  is  not  to  be  touched  in  the  least  by  man's 
wrath,  but  I  do  wish  that  the  divisions  which  weaken  and 
dishonor  our  religion  may  be  done  away,  and  that  contro- 
versies which  generally  signify  little  may  not  stifle  the  spirit 
of  Christianity.  The  difference  of  opinion  in  regard  to 
Christ  would  not  be  found  to  amount  to  much,  would  Chris- 
tians fully  and  freely  lay  open  their  minds  to  one  another." 

"  Newport,  June  21,  1841.*  I  have  seen  more  of  the 
Philadelphia  Quakers  and  love  them  much;  but,  as  a  people, 
they  have  lost  their  first  life.  Rules,  usages,  and  discipline 
have  taken  place  of  the  spirit.  My  Quaker  library  has  been 
increased  by  the  journals  of  Elias  Hicks,  David  Wheeler, 
and  John  Woolman.  Have  you  read  Woolman  ?  I  was  so 
nlTectcd  by  his  journal,  two  or  three  yeai-s  ago,  that  I  began 
a  review  of  it,  and  went  a  good  way,  but  was  drawn  aside 
by  other  objects.  A  Quaker  lady  told  me,  that  Charles 
Lamb   used  to   say  that    '  Woolman   drew  tears  from   his 

•  To  Miss  E.  P.  Peabody. 


THEODORE    PARKER.  441 

eyes.'  In  his  exquisite  essay  on  Quaker  Meetings  he  says, 
—  'Get  the  writings  of  John  Woolman  by  heart.' 

"  I  liavc  read  this  last  week,  with  inexpressible  delight, 
Nicholas  Architecture  of  the  Heavens.  How  it  lifts  one 
above  the  earth,  and  makes  him  free  of  the  universe  !  What 
a  wonderful  being  is  man,  who,  from  such  slight  hints,  can 
construct  the  universe !  How  paltry  seem  the  strifes  of 
the  world  after  this  journey  through  creation !  Should  we 
explore  this  creation  with  such  joy,  were  it  not  to  be  our 
everlasting  inheritance .'' 

"  As  to  our  friend  Theodore  Parker,  he  deals  too  much  in 
exaggerations.  He  makes  truth  unnecessarily  repulsive, 
and,  as  I  think,  sometimes  goes  beyond  the  truth.  I  shall 
judge  for  myself  of  his  discourse.*  Current  opinions  do 
not  weigh  a  feather  in  such  a  case.     Send  me  the  sermon 

as  soon  as  it  is  published I  infer  from  your  letter  that 

you  are  somewhat  excited  about  the  controversy  in  Boston. 
Possess  your  soul  in  patience.  Let  not  rude  attacks  on  any 
disturb  you.     Yours  faithfully." 

"  Neiopori,  July  6,  1841. t  I  thank  you  for  Mr.  Parker's 
sermon,  and  request  you  to  thank  him  for  the  copy  he  sent 
me.  You  will  wish  to  know  my  opinion  ;  and,  though  I 
cannot  go  into  the  subject,  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  send  a  line. 

"  The  great  idea  of  the  discourse,  the  immutableness  of 
Christian  truth,  I  respond  to  entirely.  I  have  labored  to 
separate  the  notion  of  arbitrariness,  positiveness,  from  men's 
notions  of  Christianity.  That  this  religion  is  universal, 
eternal  truth,  the  expression  of  the  Divine  mind,  and  cor- 
responding to  the  Divine  principles  in  human  nature,  is  what 
I  feel,  perhaps,  as  deeply  as  any  ;  and  I  was  moved  by  Par- 
ker's strong,  heartfelt  utterance  of  it.     Still,  there   was  a 

*  Discourse  on  the  Transient  and  Permanent  in  Christianity, 
t  To  Miss  E.  P.  Peabodv. 


442  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY, 

good  deal  in  the  discourse  I  did  not  respond  to.  I  grieved 
that  he  did  net  give  some  clear,  direct  expression  of  his  he- 
licf  in  the  Christian  miracles.  His  silence  under  such  cir- 
cumstances makes  me  fear  that  he  does  not  believe  them. 
I  see  not  liow  the  rejection  of  these  can  be  separated  from 
the  rejection  of  Jesus  Christ.  Without  them  he  becomes  a 
mere  fable,  for  nothing  is  plainer  than  that  from  the  begin- 
ning miracles  constituted  his  history.  There  is  not  a  trace 
of  a  time  when  he  existed  in  men's  minds  without  them. 
His  resurrection  was  always  the  essential  grand  fact  in  men's 
impressions  of  him,  —  at  least  as  distinctly  recognized  as  his 
crucifixion.  Miracles  enter  into  all  his  conceptions  of  him- 
self, as  these  have  been  handed  down  to  us.  They  are  so 
inwoven  into  all  his  teachings  and  acts,  that  in  taking  them 
away  we  have  next  to  nothing  left. 

"  Without  miracles,  the  historical  Christ  is  gone.  No  such 
being  is  left  us,  and  in  losing  him  how  much  is  lost !  Re- 
duce Christianity  to  a  set  of  abstract  ideas,  sever  it  from  its 
teacher,  and  it  ceases  to  be  the  '  power  of  God  unto  salva- 
tion.' Allow  that  it  could  give  us  the  idea  of  perfection, — 
which  I  cannot  concede,  —  what  I  want  is,  not  the  naked 
idea,  but  the  existence,  the  realization,  of  perfection.  Some 
seem  to  think  that  the  idea  of  infinite  perfection  answers  all 
the  purposes  of  a  God.  But  no  ;  the  existence  of  this  per- 
fection is  the  ground  of  my  hope,  my  happiness,  and  so  I 
want  the  existence  of  human  perfection.  Christian  truth 
coming  to  me  from  the  living  soul  of  Jesus,  with  his  living 
faith  and  love,  and  brought  out  in  his  grand  and  beautiful 
life,  is  a  very,  very  ditferent  thing  from  an  abstract  system. 
The  more  I  know  of  Jesus,  the  less  I  can  spare  him  ;  and 
this  place  which  he  fills  in  my  heart,  the  quickening  ofiice 
which  his  character  performs,  is  to  me  no  mean  proof  of  \ns 
reality  and  his  superhuman  greatness. 

"  In  regard  to  miracles,  I  never  had  the  least  difilculty. 
The  grand  miracle,  as  often  has  been    said,    is    the  per' 


MIRACLES.  443 

ftct^  divine  character  of  Christ ;  and  to  suoh  a  being  a 
miraculous  mode  of  manifestation  seems  natural.  It  is  by 
no  figure  of  speech  that  I  call  Christ  miraculous.  He  was 
more  separate  from  other  men  than  his  acts  from  other  acts. 
He  was  the  sinless,  spotless  Son  of  God,  distinguished  from 
all  men  by  that  infinite  peculiarity,  freedom  from  moral  evil. 
He  was  the  Perfect  Image  of  God,  the  perfection  of  the  spir- 
itual nature.  Is  it  not  plain  that  such  a  being  must  have 
been  formed  under  discipline  and  influences  distinct  from  those 
of  all  other  men  ?  that  he  cannot  be  explained  by  the  laws 
under  which  we  live  ?  that  he  is  thus  a  moral  miracle,  though 
not  such  as  implies  any  compulsory  influence  ?  To  such  a 
bemg  tiie  miracles  of  Christ's  history  wonderfully  agree. 
The  cutward  and  the  inward  correspond  in  God's  system. 
Gcd  reveals  himself  to  us  by  outward,  material  types.  So 
his  Son  is  revealed.  What  beautiful  types  of  Christ's  moral, 
heahng,  quickening  power  we  have  in  the  miraculous  parts 
of  his  history !  I  feel,  as  I  read  them,  that  the  conception 
of  such  a  character  as  Christ,  and  the  unfolding  of  it  in  such 
harmonious  acts  or  operations,  transcended  human  power, 
especially  in  that  low  moral  age,  and  that  nothing  but  the 
truth  of  the  history,  nothing  but  the  actual  manifestation  of 
such  a  being  in  such  forms,  can  explain  or  account  for  the 
Gospel  narratives. 

Mr.  Parker  supposes  Christ's  truth  to  have  been  revealed 
to  him  by  his  moral  perfection.  I  will  not  stop  to  examine 
this,  but  will  only  say,  that  the  men  to  whom  Christ  was  to 
unfold  this  truth  were  unspeakably  distant  from  this  perfec- 
tion,—  that  they  were  low,  gross,  spiritually  dead,  —  that 
the  spiritual  evidence  which  was  enough  for  him  hirJiy 
gleamed  on  their  darkened  understandings.  How  needed 
was  some  outward,  visible  symbol  of  the  truth  to  such 
minds!  How  did  they  need  that  the  great  spiritual  De- 
liverer should  be  first  made  known  to  them  by  merciful, 
majestic  acts  of  outward  deliverance !     Even  the  more  spir- 


444  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

itual  men  of  that  time,  who  had  longings  for  immortality 
were  exceedingly  assisted  in  their  earthly  state  of  mind  by 
Christ''s  resurrection.  It  shows  great  ignorance  of  human 
nature,  and  of  God's  modes  of  operation,  to  suppose  that  he 
would  approach  a  darkened,  sensual  world  by  purely  spirit- 
ual, abstract  teaching. 

"  As  to  Christ's  aulhoriti/,  there  is  a  sense  in  which  1 
think  it  important,  and  reliance  on  it  most  natural  and  rea- 
sonable. I  never  meet  a  superior  mind  without  some  degree 
of  reliance  on  it.  From  such  a  mind  as  Christ's  I  am  sure 
I  can  hear  nothing  but  truth.  Whatever  he  says,  I  am  sure 
will,  when  fully  understood,  be  found  in  harmony  with  God's 
perfection.  This  leads  me  to  a  reverential  study  of  his 
words,  as  of  no  other  man.  If  in  the  course  of  such  study 
I  meet  any  thing  which  seems  inconsistent  with  any  known 
truth,  and  especially  with  the  pure,  liberal  conceptions 
which  .Tesus  has  given  me,  I  feel  that  I  have  not  reached  his 
meaning.  I  wait  for  further  light,  I  examine  the  dark  pas- 
sage again  and  again,  and  the  probability  is  that  the  light 
will  at  length  shine.  If  not,  I  cannot  suffer  from  my  ig- 
norance. 

"  I  will  only  add,  that  to  us  the  great  evidence  of  the  mir- 
acles is  found  in  the  religion  itself,  and  in  Christ's  charac- 
ter, neither  of  which  can  be  understood  without  them,  and 
with  which  they  have  vital  connections.  Without  the  divine 
excellence  of  Christ,  the  testimony  of  the  miracles  would 
not  satisfy  us.  This  is  the  grand  foundation  and  object  of 
faith.  Still,  the  miracles  do  not  cease  to  be  important,  for 
they  are  among  the  bright  manifestations  of  his  character. 
Their  harmony  with  it  is  a  proof  of  its  existence ;  and,  above 
all,  there  are  vast  multitudes,  who,  with  some  moral  appre- 
ciation of  Christ,  arc  yet  so  imperfect,  so  earthly,  that  these 
outward  manifestations  of  his  greatness  and  of  his  connec- 
tion whh  God  have  real  value  as  helps  to  faith. 

"  I  have  written  this  letter  with  an  impatient  haste,  which 


CLEAR    CONVICTIONS.  445 

sometimes  gets  possession  of  me.  I  cannot  correct  it.  Will 
you  copy  it  fairly,  and  show  it  to  Mr.  Parkcrj,.  letting  him 
understand  that  I  have  written  as  a  friend,  and  not  as  an 
author,  and  whhout  any  aim  at  precision.  Will  you  then 
send  it  back  to  me,  as  there  are  thoughts  which  1  may  wish 
to  expand  when  I  can  get  time. 

"  Your  sincere  friend." 

"  Newport,  July  18,  1810.*  I  have  no  time  for  a  corre- 
spondence on  the  subject  of  my  last.  I  was  not  able  in  that 
to  do  more  than  throw  out  some  disconnected  thoughts. 
Nor  can  I  answer  your  last  at  any  length,  but  send  only  a 
line  of  friendly  admonition. 

"  I  am  grieved  to  find  you  talking  so  lightly  of  '  daring  to 
be  decidedly  wrong.'  I  mean  not  to  justify  myself,  but  I 
ought  to  say  that  I  have  had  but  one  form  of  '  caution,'  as 
far  as  I  know  myself.  I  have  never  hesitated  to  say  clearly, 
strongly,  what  I  was  persuaded  was  true.  But  I  have  not 
'  dared  '  to  send  forth  opinions  round  which  doubts  and  ob- 
jections lingered  in  my  mind.  I  hold  a  clear  conviction  of 
truth  to  be  essential  to  a  religious  teacher,  and  I  reprobate 
as  well  as  dread  the  teaching  of  that  which  we  have  not 
thought  upon  calmly  and  seriously,  or  which,  on  being  exam- 
ined, has  opened  before  us  problems,  perplexities,  difficuhies, 
rendering  much  reflection  needful  in  order  to  our  speaking 
with  the  deliberate  consciousness  of  truth.  The  want  of 
reverence  for  truth,  manifest  in  the  rash  teaching  of  our 
times,  shocks  me  greatly.  I  owe  the  little  which  I  am  to 
the  conscientiousness  with  which  I  have  listened  to  objec- 
tions springing  up  in  my  own  mind  to  what  I  have  inclined 
and  sometimes  thirsted  to  believe,  and  I  have  attained 
through  this  to  a  serenity  of  faith  that  once  seemed  de- 
nied in  the  present  state. 

•  To  Miss  E.  P.  Peabody, 
VOL.   II.  38 


446  RELIGION    ANt)    rHILOSOPHY. 

"lam  also  grieved  to  find  you  insensible  to  the  clear, 
bright  distinction  between  Jesus  Christ  and  ourselves.  To 
me,  and  I  should  think  to  every  reader  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament, he  stands  apart,  alone,  in  the  only  particular  in 
wiiich  separation  is  to  be  desired.  He  is  a  being  of  moral 
perfection,  unstained  by  sin.  The  great  consciousness  wiiich 
pervades,  haunts,  darkens,  all  human  spirits,  that  of  moral 
evil,  throws  not  the  slightest  shade  over  him.  His  conscious- 
ness is  his  own,  his  whole  tone,  indeed,  his  own,  and  would 
be  false  in  any  other.  Though  he  came  to  be  an  example, 
yet  in  the  points  in  which  we  so  much  need  an  example, 
in  our  conflict  with  inward  evil,  in  our  approach  to  God  as 
sinners  in  penitence  and  self-purification,  he  wholly  fails  us. 
It  was  in  reference  to  this  that  I  spoke  of  him  as  a  '  moral 
miracle,'  not  intending  by  this  to  refer  at  all  to  the  formation 
of  his  character,  which,  though  wholly  unknown  to  us, 
was  wholly  free,  but  to  the  exception  which  his  character 
forms  to  all  human  experience.  To  my  mind,  he  was  in- 
tended to  be  an  anticipation  of  the  perfection  to  which  we 
are  guided,  to  reveal  to  us  its  existence,  to  guide  and  aid  us 
towards  it,  to  show  us  that  which  exists  in  a  germ  in  all 
souls.  This  view  you  must  have  gathered  from  my  writ- 
ings. But  my  own  history,  and  the  history  of  the  race,  and 
of  the  best  beings  I  have  known,  have  taught  me  the  im- 
mense distance  of  us  all  from  Christ.  He  is  to  be  ap- 
proached by  gradual  self-crucifixion,  by  a  war  with  the  evil 
within  us  which  will  not  end  till  the  grave.  The  idea  that 
the  germ  within  us  is  to  shoot  up  at  once  into  the  perfection 
of  Jesus,  —  that  we  are  to  be  '  gifted  '  in  this  stage  of  our  be- 
ing '  with  his  powers,'  to  be  '  as  powerful  as  a  teacher,'  — 
this  certainly  never  entered  my  thoughts,  and  it  shows  such  a 
sclf-ignorancc,  such  an  ignorance  of  human  history  and  hu- 
man life,  that  one  wonders  how  it  can  have  entered  i  sound 
mind.  Of  the  formation  of  Christ's  mind  we  kncv  noth- 
ing, and  the  secrecy  in  which  his  spiritual  history  .s  veiled 


FREE    SPEECH.  447 

Is  no  small  presumption  against  its  applicableness  to  our- 
selves. Infinite  wisdom  has  infinite  modts  of  disciplining- 
and  unfolding  the  spirit.  His  great  end  of  revealing  to  us 
the  Perfect  is  equally  answered,  be  his  sjiritual  history  wliat 
it  may.  All  spirits,  however  unfolded,  are  essentiallv  one. 
In  the  response  of  our  spirits  to  his  perfection,  in  his  deep 
fraternal  sympathy  with  the  human  soul,  and  in  his  divjne 
promises,  wc  have  foundations  of  the  profoundest,  most  jcy- 
ful  faith  in  our  heavenly  destiny.  I  am  grieved,  as  I  m.ist 
say,  by  extravagances  on  this  and  other  points,  because  I 
have  lived  in  hope  of  the  manifestation  of  a  truth  and  spir- 
itual life  which  is  to  give  a  new  impulse  to  the  world,  and 
it  is  some  trial,  at  my  time  of  life,  to  have  such  hope  baflled. 
However,  I  do  not  despair.  The  true  teachers,  who  arc  to 
unite  '  love  and  power  and  soundness  of  mind,'  will  come. 

"As  to  Mr.  Parker,  I  wish  him  to  preach  what  he  thoroughly 
believes  and  feels.  I  trust  the  account  you  received  of  at- 
tempts to  put  him  down  was  in  the  main  a  fiction.  Let 
the  full  heart  pour  itself  forth.  And  still  more  it  will  re- 
joice me  to  find  a  good  accomplished  wlrirh  I  cannot  antici- 
pate. I  want  no  dark  prophecies  accomplished  but  I  do 
assure  you,  the  weaknesses  of  the  rrood  are  among  the  trials 
of  my  faith.  I  repeat  it,  I  am  too  much  occupied  to  follow 
up  this  subject  now.  Give  my  love  to  Mr.  Parker.  1  shall 
be  glad  to  hear  from  him,  and  in  perfect  fieedom.  I  think 
he  is  probably  one  of  the  many  who  are  to  be  made  wise  by 
error  and  suflering,  but  1  honor  his  virtues,  1  feel  that  he  has 
seized  on  some  great  truths,  and  I  carnc.'^tly  desire  for  him 
the  illumination  which  will  make  him  an  unmixed  blessinff 

o 

to  his  fellow-creatures. 

"  P.  S.  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  I  am  the  more  disinclined 
to  write  on  the  topics  of  this  letter,  because  I  get  no  light 
from  the  new  views.  I  seem  to  learn  vury  liltle.  Their 
vague  generalities  do  not  satisfy.  You  seem  wholly  to  over- 
look the  actual  moral  condition  of  the  human  race  on  which 


44S  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

Christianity  is  founded,  and  which  renders  it  important  to 
the  multitude  of  men  that  they  should  have  some  evidence 
additional  to  that  which  is  purely  spiritual.  Thousands  and 
millions,  who  desire  to  believe  in  immortality,  would  be  ex- 
posed to  all  the  misgivings  on  that  point  which  beset  the  best 
and  strongest  heathen  minds,  were  it  not  for  the  resurrection 
and  promises  of  Jesus  Christ.  Without  the  inward  eviden- 
ces of  this  truth,  outward  testimony  would  not  satisfy  me 
But  with  so  many  phenomena  hostile  to  these  evidences,  and 
M'ith  so  much  guilt  and  infirmity  to  darken  the  future,  I  am 
most  grateful  for  the  resurrection  and  promises  of  Christ. 
Shall  I  be  helped  by  being  robbed  of  these  confirmations  of 
my  faith  ?  At  this  moment,  most  of  the  '  true  spiritualists  ' 
are  in  danger  of  losing  their  faith  in  immortality  through 
their  pantheistic  notions  of  the  soul,  and  its  absorption  in  the 
only  substance.  Deity.  These  notions  threaten  to  destroy 
all  sense  of  moral  responsibility  and  moral  freedom.  The 
spiritualist  is  often  saved  from  the  wreck  of  faith  by  Chris- 
tianity without  suspecting  it. 

" preached  a  touching  sermon  yesterday  upon  the 

'  loneliness '  of  Jesus  Christ.  I  claim  little  resemblance  to 
my  divine  Friend  and  Saviour,  but  I  seem  doomed  to  drink 
of  this  cup  with  him  to  the  last.  I  see  and  feel  the  harm 
done  by  this  crude  speculation,  whilst  I  also  see  much  noble- 
ness to  bind  me  to  its  advocates.  In  its  opinions  generally 
I  see  nothing  to  give  me  hope.  Example  aids  me  only  by 
the  moral  enthusiasm  which  its  grandeur  inspires.  The 
noblest  example,  that  of  sympathy  with  the  fallen,  becomes 
impressive  in  proportion  to  the  moral  dignity  of  him  who 
manifests  it. 

"  Very  sincerely,  your  friend." 

"  Newport^  August,   1841.*     I  thank  you  for  your  long 

•  To  Miss   E.  P.  Peabody 


THE    NEW    MOVEMENT. 

letter,  but  cannot  reply,  as  I  am  otherwise  engaged,  and 
therefore  1  could  only  write  with  that  '  un^iardedness ' 
which,  though  so  beautiful  to  some,  is  to  mc  a  moral  defect. 
I  fear,  or  rather  hope,  that  I  wrote  unguardedly  about  Pan- 
theism. I  am  happy  to  say,  that  in  my  conversation  with 
Transcendental  ministers  I  have  seen  no  Pantheism.  In- 
deed, Mr.  Alcott  is  the  only  man  from  whom  I  heard  it ; 
hut  I  supposed  I  saw  in  him  the  tendency  of  a  good  many 
of  the  school.  I  knew  too  little,  however,  to  warrant  what 
I  fear  was  a  sweeping  passage  in  my  letter.  So  much  for 
ofT-hand  judgments. 

"  You  will  not  infer  from  my  letters  that  I  am  at  all 
grieved  at  the  publication  of  views  from  which  I  dissent. 
Let  the  honest,  earnest  spirit  speak,  and  the  more  fully  and 
freely  for  attempts  to  put  it  to  silence.  I  am  somewhat  dis- 
appointed that  this  new  movement  is  to  do  so  little  for  the 
spiritual  regeneration  of  society,  which,  however,  must  go 
on,  and  which  no  errors  can  long  keep  back.  To  me, 
Christ  is  the  great  spiritualist.  This  view  binds  me  to  him. 
Under  him  the  battle  of  the  human  race  is  to  be  fought. 
Any  specidations  which  throw  mists  or  doubts  over  his  his- 
tory, and  diminish  the  conviction  of  his  grandeur. and  im- 
portance, are  poor,  and  must  come  to  naught.  1  do  not  be- 
lieve that  the  great  object  of  faith,  which  is  the  perfection 
of  the  human  soul,  or  everlasting,  unbounded  spiritual  de- 
velopment, is  to  be  seized  as  a  reality,  and  made  the  grand 
aspiration  and  end  of  life,  without  the  quickening,  inspiring 
influences  of  his  character  and  truth.  Indeed,  perfection 
becomes  a  dim  shadow,  without  the  help  of  his  living  mani- 
festation of  it.  I  do  fear  a  tendency,  in  the  present  move- 
ment, to  loosen  the  tie  which  binds  the  soul  to  its  great 
Friend  and  Deliverer.  It  would  seem  as  if  your  experience 
had  shown  you  human  nature  developing  its  highest  senti- 
ments without  help  and  confirmation  from  abroad.  To  me, 
history  and  observation  and  experience  read  veiy  different 
38* 


^x^iGION    Ax\D    PHILOSOPHY. 


450       """"^ 

-^ns,  and  the  consequences  of  overlooking  them  are  not 

doubtful.  The  profound  ignorance  of  Jesus  Christ  shown 
by  those  who  find  in  him  a  restraint,  and  also  talk  of  out- 
growing him,  is  discouraging.  I  find  in  him  only  free- 
dom. 

"  I  have  little  hope  in  this  new  movement,  except  as  it 
indicates  deep  wants  of  the  soul,  and  a  consciousness  of  its 
greatness.  Nor  have  I  feare.  I  believe  in  the  purity  of 
those  who  are  concerned  in  it.  I  believe,  too,  that  it  will 
spread  but  little,  for  there  is  little  in  the  times  to  favor  any 
who  separate  themselves  comparatively  from  the  grand  im- 
pulse given  by  Christ  to  the  world.  I  see  as  yet  but  one 
decided  step  towards  a  higher  practicaP manifestation  of 
Christianity,  and  that  is  Abolition,  and  how  imperfect  that 
is  we  both  know. 

"  I  have  seen,  this  last  week,  a  member  of  the  Mendon 
community.  I  look  to  UiaL  with  a  good  deal  of  hope.  I 
never  hoped  so  strongly  and  so  patiently 

"  ^Vhat  I  write  without  time  for  reflection  is  a  very  poor 
picture  of  my  tb.oughts.  I  shall  have  time  to  do  justice  to 
my  views  by  and  by.  I  will  only  add,  that  your  specula- 
tions about  the  peculiarity  of  Jesus  seem  to  me  unphilosoph- 
ical  and  fantastic.  A  seraph  moving  about  among  us  with 
his  wings  would  not  be  a  greater  anomaly.  For  the  world, 
I  would  not  have  my  faith  in  the  souPs  perfection  and  ever- 
lasting growth  rest  on  such  foundations.  I  attach,  however, 
little  importance  to  such  speculations.  Jesus  will  give  little 
difficulty  to  those  who  understand  the  unity  of  the  spiritual 
world,  amidst  all  its  varieties.  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  from 
you,  though  I  write  no  more  in  reply. 

"  P.  S.  I  hope  the  spiritualists  will  be  calm  and  kind,  as 
well  as  bold.  Great  indulgence  is  due  to  men  who  think 
that  another  is  about  to  tear  Christianity  from  them  and  their 
children.  I  hope  I  can  bear  even  a  bitter  zeal  from  those 
who  honestly  view  me  in  this  light.     The  supercilious  scof- 


SPIRITUALISTS.  451 

fers  and  selfish  conservatives  deserve  less  morcy.  But  there 
are  few  of  these  without  a  mixture  of  sonic  real  concern  for 
Christianity,  —  and  this  is  so  infinite  a  i>'ood,  even  in  its 
lower  forms,  that  much  unreasonable  sensiiiveness  in  re- 
gard to  it  may  be  forgiven.'" 

"  September  10,  1841.*  Here,  as  in  E;:gland,  we  have 
a  stir.  Happily,  we  have  no  material  anti-supernaturalisti. 
Our  reformers  are  spiritualists,  and  hold  many  grand  truths  ; 
but  in  identifying  themselves  a  good  deal  with  Cousin's 
crude  system,  they  have  lost  the  life  of  an  original  move- 
ment. Some  among  them  seem  to  lean  to  the  anti-miracu- 
lous, have  got  the  German  notions  of  '  myths,'  &c.,  and 
1  fear  are  loosening  their  hold  on  Christ.  They  are  anxious 
to  defend  the  soul's  immediate  connection  with  God.  They 
fear  lest  Christ  be  made  a  barrier  between  the  soul  and  the 
Supreme,  and  are  in  danger  of  substituting  private  inspira- 
tion for  Christianity.  Should  they  go  thus  far,  my  hopes 
from  them  will  cease  wholly  ;  but  as  yet  the  elements  are 
in  great  agitation,  and  it  is  hard  to  say  how  they  will  ar- 
range themselves.  I  have  great  sympathy  with  the  spirit- 
ualists ;  but  I  know  so  well  the  needs  of  tl:e  soul,  and  the 
conditions  of  its  growth,  that  I  look  jealously  on  whatever 
may  shake  the  foundations  of  Christianity.  For  myself,  I 
sec  no  inconsistency  between  admitting  miracles,  and  rest- 
ing Christianity  on  a  spiritual  basis,  —  between  recognizing 
the  inward  as  supreme,  and  reverencing  the  authority  of 
Christ.  You  will  see  from  these  views  that  1  go  along  with 
your  movement  more  than  with  ours." 

"  Works  may  be  strictly  miraculous,  though  they  do  not 
transcend  the  natural  power  of  a  being.  Were  an  angel 
to  enter   my  family,  and  heal  the  sick,  and  raise  the  dead, 

•  To  the  Rev.  James  Martineau, 


i52  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

4ind  sustain  us  for  a  year  witliout  food  or  sleep,  and  keep 
us  in  a  perpetual  glow  of  thought  or  feeling,  he  might  exert 
only  the  powers  of  an  angel.  But  the  order  of  nature  here 
would  be  violated,  for  this  order  prescribes  spheres  of  action 
to  beings.  Were  it  the  order  of  nature  that  angels  sliould 
mix  with  us  as  men  do  with  one  another,  here  would  be  no 
miracle.  The  action  of  such  a  being  as  Jesus  Christ  on 
earth  would  be  the  same  thing  with  the  supposed  agency 
of  the  angel. 

"  This  argument  against  the  miracles  —  I  use  the  word 
for  supernatural  agency  —  is  essentially  the  same  with  that 
of  Rousseau  and  other  skeptics.  Rousseau  says,  in  effect, 
—  'Prescribe,  define,  the  laws  of  nature,  and  then  I  will 
allow  you  to  call  an  event  a  miracle ;  we  do  not,  cannot, 
know  nature's  course,  so  as  to  be  authorized  to  call  any 
thing  a  deviation.  These  are  idiosyncrasies.  AVho  can  set 
limits  to  them  .'  Were  a  man  to  raise  the  dead,  what  would 
this  prove  but  some  peculiar  natural  gift.'  lie  has  a  dif- 
ferent brain  or  nervous  system,  or  some  peculiarity  of 
constitution  adapted  to  this  effect.  True  philosophy  requires 
us  to  set  this  down  as  a  new  fact  or  new  power  of  nature. 
By  and  by  another  of  these  idiosyncrats  will  appear,  and 
we  shall  learn  more  about  it.  Who  can  set  limits  to  human 
power.?  If  a  man  by  his  will  can  move  his  arm,  why  not 
the  sun  ?  ' 

"  To  this  '  why  not '  I  have  no  answer.  I  do  not  sco 
why  I  might  not  be  made  to  move  the  sun,  as  well  as  my 
arm.  But  when  a  man  by  such  reasoning  tries  to  satisfy 
me  that  I  know  nothing  of  nature's  order,  and  cannot  judge 
of  what  surpasses  it,  I  feel  as  if  he  were  trifling  with  nie, 
ind  that  such  reasonings,  if  ap|)lIod  to  any  thing  but  relig- 
ion, he  would  be  the  first  to  condemn.  That  CiuMst's  mira- 
tilos  were  wrought  without  faith  in  the  subjects,  we  are  as- 
sured in  the  case  of  his  speaking  to  the  sea,  multiplying  the 
loaves 


MIRACLKS.  ♦  453 

"  Christ's  naturalness  or  unconsciousness  in  working  mir- 
acles appears  to  some  to  be  a  proof  that  he  was  putting 
forth  a  power  so  much  his  own,  that  he  thought  no  more  of 
it  than  of  speaking,  and  in  it  they  see  the  ease  of  unbounded 
energy.  I  see  in  it  the  low  estimation  in  which  he  held 
this  energy.  IVIiracle-working  was  to  him  nothing,  compared 
with  moral  energy.  Moral  life,  grandeur,  beauty,  so  pos- 
sessed him,  that  he  was  above  all  consciousness  of  his  abil- 
ity to  work  outward  effects  beyond  other  men.  He  was 
too  absorbed  in  benevolent  and  spiritual  results  to  think  of 
physical  might.  One  of  the  beauties  of  Christ's  character 
is  his  superiority  to  his  miracles.  He  tried  to  give  his  fol- 
lowers the  same  spirit,  when  he  said,  '  Rejoice  not  that  the 
spirits  are  subject  to  you,'  &c.  Paul  liad  caught  his  Mas- 
ter's inspiration,  when  he  said,  '  Though  I  have  faith  to 
move  mountains  and  want  love,  I  am  nothing.''  Jesus 
never  speaks  of  his  miracles  but  from  necessity,  nor  does 
Paul 

"  That  miracles  are  in  harmony  with  the  great  purposes 
of  nature,  that  nature's  order  is  never  transgressed  but  to 
accomplish  the  end  for  which  it  was  instituted,  that  they 
may  be  reduced  to  the  great  law  by  which  matter  obeys 
spirit  and  is  made  subordinate  to  its  growth,  that  they  are 
regularly  connected  with  certain  antecedent  circumstances 
and  never  occur  but  in  certain  exigencies,  —  all  this  I 
believe,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  very  possibly,  after  all  our 
apparent  difference,  we  shall  be  found  fighting  in  the  main 
about  words 

"  Here  I  was  about  to  stop,  but  new  thoughts  rush  into  my 
mind.  I  see  nothing  in  experience  to  justify  the  notion,  that 
faith  or  goodness  gives  us  any  direct  power  over  foreign 
matter.  Were  this  a  law  of  nature,  it  must  appear  in  the 
lapse  of  ages. 

"  I  hold  in  no  very  high  estimation  our  unintelligent  [)ow- 
er  over  matter,  and  to  this   head  I  have  always  reduced 


454  BELIGION    AND    PIULOSOPHV. 

miracles,  whether  justly  or  not.  By  unintelligent  power  1 
mean  such  as  my  will  exerts  over  my  arm,  in  which  case  I 
know  nothing  of  the  connection  of  will  with  the  motion  of 
the  muscle  us.  ',  &c.  Intelligent  power  over  matter,  that 
which  man  gains  by  studying  its  laws,  by  skilful  inventions, 
&c., — this  I  respect  highly.  Now,  I  have  always  been  in 
the  habit,  without  any  theory,  of  ascribing  the  former  to 
C\  rist  in  case  of  miracles.  We  know  it  was  the  only  pow- 
er of  the  Apostles.  I  do  not  suppose,  when  he  healed  dis- 
ease, that  he  had  the  whole  frame  laid  open  to  him,  —  that 
he  anticipated  all  the  discoveries  of  anatomists,  saw  the  ob- 
structions, the  deranged  functions,  the  diseased  organs,  and 
by  intelligent  action  on  each  restored  the  system  to  perfect 
health.  I  always  think  of  him  as  willing  the  effect  just  as 
I  will  to  move  an  arm,  that  is,  as  putting  forth  unintelligent 
power.  Such  an  act,  considered  in  itself,  is  inferior  in  dig- 
nity to  the  power  which  the  physician  puts  forth,  who  by 
wisdom  heals  a  disease.  All  the  superiority  of  the  miracle 
consists  in  this,  —  that  it  lies  beyond  the  agency  of  vian^ 
and  thus  attests  a  peculiar  presence  of  God.  The  idea  of 
the  peculiar  presence  of  God  predominates  in  all  that  Christ 
says  of  his  miracles,  —  an  idea  resting  on  the  inadequacy 
of  all  natural  regular  powers  to  their  production.  As  such 
they  were  viewed  by  the  spectators,  and  as  such  they  pro- 
duced the  effect  on  the  human  mind  for  which  they  were 
wrought."  * 

"  I  have  heard  Elias  Hicks  spoken  of  with  great  rever- 
ence. Those  who  best  know  him,  as  I  understand,  honor 
him  as  a  man  of  deep  piety ;  and  I  doubt  not  that  among 
his  followers  may  be  found  many  exemplary  Christians. 
But  I  apprehend  that  this  sect,  if  it  may  be  so  called,  are 
exposed  to  what  Unitarians  would  deem  great  crroi-s.    They 

•  To  the  Rev.  VV.  H.  Furncss. 


ELIAS    HICKS.  455 

are,  indeed,  ultra-Quakers,  carrying  the  doctrine  of  immedi- 
ate revelation  to  an  extent  which  greatly  diminishes  the 
value  of  the  New  Testament.  All  Quakerisnris  liable  to 
this  objection.  By  teaching  that  every  man  is  favored 
with  an  immediate  revelation  from  God,  which  ought  to  bo 
his  supreme  standard,  it  gives  a  secondary  place  to  the 
teachings  of  Christ.  I  fear  that  Elias  Hicks  and  hi«-  adher- 
ents are  following  this  distinctive  opinion  of  Quakers  into 
consequences  which,  whether  true  or  false,  are  very  remote 
from  the  views  taken  by  Unitarians.  I  have  heai-d  of  iheir 
speaking  of  the  inspiration  of  Jesus  Christ  as  differing 
very  little,  if  at  all,  from  what  is  granted  to  holy  men 
at  all  times  ;  so  that,  in  their  views  of  it,  the  New  Testa- 
ment cannot  claim  the  peculiar  authority  which  we  attribute 
to  it. 

"  This  is  a  very  important  difference.  Unitarian'ism 
may  be  said  to  be  distinguished  by  nothing  more  than  by 
the  prominence  which  it  gives  to  the  teaching  of  Christ. 
Whilst  Trinitarians  and  Calvinists  believe  that  Jesus  came 
chiefly  to  make  satisfaction  for  human  guilt,  Unitarians  be- 
lieve that  the  great  object  of  his  mission  was  '  to  bear  wit- 
ness to  the  truth.''  They  esteem  Christ  an  unspeakable 
blessing,  on  account  of  the  unparalleled  value  of  the  truth 
which  he  communicates.  They  believe  that  he  alone  re- 
veals the  Father,  and  brings  life  and  immortality  to  light. 
They  believe  that  all  other  illumination  fades  away  before 
the  brightness  of  his  Gospel.  Now,  if  the  common  accounts 
given  of  Elias  Hicks  and  of  his  adherents  be  in  any  meas- 
ure true,  little  sympathy  exists  between  them  and  Unitarians 
on  this  important  point.  They  ascribe  inspiration  to  Clwist, 
but  not  such  as  makes  him  the  supreme  Guide  of  the  human 
race  ;  and  still  more,  they  expose  themselves,  we  fear,  to 
gross  delusions  by  the  habit  of  tracing  to  inspiration  any 
singular  operations  of  their  own  minds.  At  least,  such  are 
the  accounts  given  of  them,  and  should  these  accounts  be 


456  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

accurate,  it  is  not   easy  to  set  limits  to  the  extravagances 
which  they  may  send  forth  as  Divine  revelations. 

"  In  what  I  have  said  I  mean  not  to  condemn.  I  want 
more  extensive  knowledge  of  the  views  of  this  body  of 
Quakers.  I  simply  mean  to  say,  that,  as  a  Unitarian,  I 
have  no  disposition  to  identify  their  cause  with  my  own,  and 
for  this  simple  reason,  that  we  differ  in  some  important  re- 
spects. I  can  '  greet  them  as  friends  and  brothers,'  just  as  I 
greet  all  good  and  pious  men  of  all  classes  of  Christians. 
I  can  and  do  rejoice  that  they  have  thrown  off  the  bondage 
of  liuman  creeds.  I  hope  much  from  the  spirit  of  inquiry 
which  is  at  work  among  them.  But  I  have  fears,  too,  and,  I 
must  say,  many  fears.  I  fear  that  they  may  prefer  what 
they  esteem  a  particular  inspiration  communicated  to  them- 
selves to  the  everlasting  and  universal  lights  of  reason  and 
of  the  Christian  revelation.  I  fear  that  a  false  standard 
may  gradually  supplant  the  true  ones.  I  shall  rejoice  to 
find  that  I  err.  But  it  seems  to  me  not  wise  to  expose 
ourselves  to  misapprehensions  by  seeming  to  ally  ourselves 
with  those  concerning  whom  we  cannot  but  fear."  * 

^'■Boston,  November,  1841. f  You  ask  my  opinion  con- 
cerning the  origin  of  moral  evil  ;  a  question  which  has  puz- 
zled far  greater  minds  than  mine.  I  pretend  not  to  ex- 
plain it,  but  I  find  some  solution  of  it  in  our  moral  free- 
dom. When  I  think  that  we  owe  to  moral  evil  the  character 
of  Christ,  and  the  celestial  virtues  with  which  he  inspires 
his  followers,  I  see  a  bright  light  shed  over  this  mystery. 
The  solution  of  the  problem  concerning  the  origin  of  moral 
evil,  generally  given,  is  liable  to  this  serious  and  fatal  ob- 
jection, that  the  explanation  is  more  difficult,  perplexing, 
irreconcilable,  and  contrary  to  our  ideas  of  God's  perfec- 
tions, than  the  fact  to  be  explained. 

*  From  tlie  Christian  Register. 

t   To  Mr.  Harland  Coultas,  Malton. 


RETRIBUTION.  AST' 

"  You  ask  me  to  direct  your  attention  to  some  snitablo 

Dooks.     It  is  so  Ions,  since  I  studied  controversial  theolu";^ 

•  T  r 

out  of  any  book   but  the  Bible,  that  I  scarcely  know  wliat 

to  say   to  you.     In  this  country,  a   venerable    man,   Noah 

Worcester,  has  written  a  tract  on  the  Atonement,  and  also  a 

work  entitled  '  Last  Thoughts.'  " 

"  In  my  present  state  of  mind  I  cannot  but  feel  some 
wonder  at  the  distress  which  you  experience  from  the  threat- 
ening language  in  the  New  Testament.  If  I  understand 
your  letter,  your  imagination  is  haunted  with  the  idea  of  lit- 
eral flames,  and  hell  is  dreaded,  not  as  including  all  moral 
evils,  but  as  a  great  fire.  The  spiritual  interpretation  of 
Scripture  has  so  far  made  its  way  among  all  denominations 
of  Christians  in  this  part  of  the  country,  that  I  do  not  know 
an  individual  who  believes  in  the  literal  fire  as  the  punish- 
ment of  the  condemned.  In  regard  to  the  word  eternal., 
this  is  used  in  the  Scriptures  again  and  again,  according  to 
the  free,  bold  style  of  the  Oriental  writings,  to  express  any 
great  duration.  Thus  the  mountains  and  the  Jewish  law  are 
spoken  of  as  everlasting.  If  you  will  read  the  prophetic 
writings,  you  will  see  in  them  the  sublimest  characteristics 
of  poetry.  I  suppose  that  you  are  aware  that  they  are 
poems,  not  prose.  They  abound  in  the  boldest,  most  mag- 
nificent figures,  and,  unless  interpreted  according  to  their 
poetic  character,  will  lead  into  all  imaginable  absurdities. 
The  prophetic  language  of  the  New  Testament  respecting 
future  punishment,  and  respecting  Christ's  coming  to  destroy 
Jerusalem,  is  taken  from  the  old  prophets,  whose  writings 
formed  a  most  familiar  part  of  the  literature  of  the  Jews, 
and  must  be  interpreted  accordingly.  I  beg  you  to  read 
carefully  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  chapters  of  Isaiah, 
containing  the  prediction  of  the  destruction  of  Babylon,  and 
you  will  see  the  freedom  of  the  prophetic  style,  and  the 
VOL.   11.  39 


458  RELIGION    AND    PHILOSOPHY. 

danger  of  interpreting  it  as  if  it  were  the  language  of  pre* 
cise  and  cautious  logic." 

1841.  "  These  remarks,  I  think,  will  help  to  remove 
your  Scriptural  difficulties.  I  see,  however,  that  you  liave  a 
deeper  difficulty.  The  fearful  amount  of  sin  and  suffi^ring 
in  the  world  depresses  and  troubles  you.  How  is  God's 
goodness  to  be  reconciled  with  what  we  see  and  read  of  in 
human  affiiirs  ?  This  is  the  old  problem  of  the  '  origin  of 
evil,'  which  has  perplexed  thinking  minds  from  the  begin- 
ning of  the  world.  I  cannot  hope  to  explain  what  the 
greatest  minds  have  left  obscure.  In  truth,  I  do  not  desire 
to  remove  obscurity  from  Providence  ;  for  in  making  the 
universe  a  plain  thing,  I  should  bring  it  down  to  the  little- 
ness of  my  own  mind  ;  I  should  rob  h  of  all  its  grandeur. 
If  it  be  infinite,  the  work  of  an  infinite  mind,  it  must  tran- 
scend my  conceptions,  stretch  beyond  my  intellect,  and  I 
must  live  encircled  with  impenetrable  mysteries.  The  dark- 
ness of  God's  providence  is  to  me  an  expression  of  its 
vastness,  its  immeasurable  grandeur.  I  cannot  doubt.  I 
adore. 

"  Of  much  that  is  evil  in  human  life  I  see  the  cause  and  the 
cure.  Many  forms  of  human  sufiering  I  would  not  remove, 
if  I  could  ;  for  I  see  that  we  owe  to  them  all  the  interest  and 
dignity  of  life,  and  I  am  sure,  that,  in  proportion  as  I  shall  be 
able  to  penetrate  the  system,  much  which  now  perplexes 
me  will  be  revealed  in  a  glorious  light.  Man,  if  a  free 
moral  leing,  must  be  tried,  must  be  exposed  to  temptation, 
must  have  a  wide  range  of  action,  must  be  liable  to  much  sin 
and  much  suffering.  He  cannot  be  happy  in  the  beginning 
of  his  career,  for,  from  the  essential  laws  of  a  free  being,  he 
can  have  no  happiness  but  what  he  wins  amidst  temptation. 
A  brute  may  be  made  as  happy  as  he  can  be,  at  first. 
Man,  God's  free  moral  child,  cannot  know  happiness  till  by 
his  own  striving  he  has  risen  to  goodness  and  sanctity.     I  do 


DIVINE    GOODNESS,  459 

not  sec  how  sin  and  suffering  can  be  removed,  but  by  strik- 
ing out  from  our  nature  its  cliicf  glories. 

"  I  have  expressed  some  views  on  this  general  subject  in 
a  discourse  recently  published,  in  consequence  of  the  loss  of 
an  excellent  friend  on  board  the  Lexington,  which  I  send 
you.  Perhaps  some  of  these  may  interest  and  relieve  you. 
It  is  so  long  since  doubts  of  the  Divine  goodness  have 
crossed  my  mind,  that  I  hardly  know  how  to  meet  them. 
This  truth  comes  to  me  as  an  intuitive  one.  I  meet  it  every- 
where. I  can  no  more  question  it  than  I  can  the  supreme 
worth  and  beauty  of  virtue." 


END   OF   VOL.    II. 


D 


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